


Offset

by Deviant_Accumulation



Series: Tip the scales [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attachment does not equal love in this fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Qui-Gon Lives, Star Wars: Attack of the Clones AU, TPM!Qui-Gon meets AotC!Obi-Wan, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviant_Accumulation/pseuds/Deviant_Accumulation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on his mission to discover the mastermind behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi is captured on Geonosis by Separatist Leader and former Jedi Master Dooku. As old and new secrets come to light, the Jedi Knight struggles to discern the truths from the lies. Political and personal motivations clash and blur together; all the while the galaxy is balancing on the precipice of war, and coming closer to falling with every passing second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one in a two part series. Part 2 is currently in the plotting stage, so it will take a bit until I can upload it. I daresay that part 1 stands quite well on its own though, in case you are someone who's not into WIPs, this work has a pretty clear ending even without part 2.
> 
> Huge thanks go to guessthejokesonyou, markwatnae, ladymodina and that-pissed-off-tolkien-blogger for betaing!

Obi-Wan awoke to a pounding headache and the feeling that someone in the galaxy really had it out for him. His body felt bruised and ached all over, undoubtedly resulting from the explosion that had knocked him out. Shackles encircled his wrists and ankles and he felt like he was floating, his body probably suspended in some kind of energy field. The collar around his neck with the suppressor was the most bothersome, cutting him off from the familiar flow of the Force, which was far more worrying than the whole chained up thing.

He was somewhat surprised that he was still alive; holding a Jedi captive was usually more trouble than it was worth. Then again, he wasn’t sure if anyone would come looking for him here on Geonosis. Because of the sudden droid attack Arfour had been unable to relay his message to Anakin on Naboo. Without that piece of information, the Council would have no idea where he even was, making the chance of being rescued equal to zero. And if his captor really was Dooku, as he assumed, escaping would be very difficult – even with outside help.

 _Better get started on it then_ , he thought, and opened his eyes.

He was in a round room. Small, dimly glowing lights were embedded in the walls, but the main light came from the field generators above and below him that fed the blue containment field keeping him suspended and immobile. He faced a door, plain grey without any visible control panels, that didn’t look like it was meant to be opened from the inside.

The energy field kept his limbs firmly ensnared but he was still able to move his head, so he strained his neck to see if there was anything else behind him. Nothing. The room was empty except for the generators and him. No guards, no lock mechanism on the door, not even visible cameras keeping a watchful eye on the prisoner occupying the cell.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. There was nothing at the moment he could do to get out of this situation, so instead of wasting energy, he let himself sink into a meditative trance. Just shy of sleeping, it would replenish some of the energy he had lost to all the excitement of the last two days. An opportunity for escape would present itself sooner or later. He released his frustration into the Force and calmed his breathing.

Judging how much time passed during meditation was always somewhat tricky, but he was sure that it had been about two hours since his awakening when he noticed a strong presence in the Force approaching. Even though the collar prevented him from drawing energy from it, he could still pick up contrasts in its everlasting movement – and the person walking towards his cell caused ripples that were strong enough to be picked up even by non-Force sensitive individuals.

It had to be Dooku, he realized after a moment. He had never met the man, but he had known his Force signature ever since he had become Qui-Gon’s padawan. Faint traces of it stayed in his master’s signature even after he and the Count had distanced themselves from each other. The door opened and Dooku strode in, dark cloak billowing after him, his posture and gait speaking of determination and power.

“Traitor,” Obi-Wan spat, as Dooku stepped into the circle of light cast by the field generator above him, eyes fixed on his captive.

“Surely there is no need for insults,” Dooku said, faint distaste in his voice even as he kept his words polite. “Though I do apologize for the… unfortunate arrangements. It is merely a security measure.”

“Is it, now?” Obi-Wan asked dryly, arching one eyebrow.

Dooku didn’t rise to the bait, but then, Obi-Wan hadn’t really expected him to.

“You must understand, this is only a temporary confinement,” he said. “I am sure that we can reach an agreement that both of us will find advantageous. Contrary to what you might believe, it is not in my interest to cause you any harm.”

“Well, why would I ever come to such a conclusion, I wonder,” Obi-Wan said. A brief flicker of annoyance, masked too well to ever be detectable in the Force, flashed briefly across Dooku’s face before he regained control.

“You may have noticed that I didn’t let the droid shoot you to bits when I easily could have.”

“And for that you have my everlasting gratitude,” Obi-Wan replied.

“In that case, I would like to exchange it for the opportunity of saying my piece without being interrupted by your oh-so-witty one-liners.”

“Sure. After all, I don’t exactly have anything better to do at the moment.”

Dooku looked like he very much wanted to rebuff that remark, but reigned himself in with visible effort.

“I do realize that I may appear as an… antagonist, of sorts, but I assure you that just because I have left the order behind doesn’t mean I have done the same with the morals I once swore to uphold.” Obi-Wan held back a disbelieving snort. “The Separatist movement is merely a means to an end. Not a pretty one, I am aware of that, but a necessary one nonetheless, to dispose of someone who threatens the peace of the whole galaxy. I do not have the resources or the strength at my disposal to defeat this enemy by myself, and I cannot ask for support from the Senate or the Council.”

“How come?” Obi-Wan asked, making sure to keep his tone indifferent as he watched Dooku pace back and forth in front of him.

“The enemy I am up against—we are up against—has integrated himself deeply into the political system of the Republic. They have a considerable amount of control over the Senate, and by extension, the Jedi Council,” Dooku said, and finally stopped to turn around and look at Obi-Wan. “I believe that there is a Sith Lord sitting on and controlling the Senate.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “That’s not possible. The Council would have noticed their presence.”

“The Dark Side has clouded their vision, my friend,” Dooku said, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth to keep himself from objecting to the endearment. “Surely you must have noticed by now that the Force doesn’t flow through Coruscant as it used to just a decade ago; the decline of visions and the lack of assistance from the Force itself.”

Begrudgingly, Obi-Wan had to admit that he was right. For a long time, there had been murmurs at the Temple about the Force not feeling the way it used to, and the topic had often been the centre of heated discussions by the Council, but to no avail.

“If you are so sure of it, why haven’t you taken your concerns to the Council?” Obi-Wan finally asked.

“With the level that the Sith has infiltrated the Senate I am sure that he has also contacts inside the Temple, Jedi that work for and inform him. For now, it is important that the Sith Lord not know that I am aware of his existence, or I will find myself in grave danger indeed. Without more information about just how far his network reaches, I don’t know whom I can trust.”

“And yet, you are telling me,” Obi-Wan remarked.

“Ah, but you’re not like any other Jedi, Master Kenobi. After all, it was you who defeated the Sith on Naboo, who I believe had been apprenticed to the one who is currently taking control of the Senate. You were a remarkably powerful Jedi back then, and have only grown in strength ever since.”

“Flattery won’t make me trust you, Dooku,” Obi-Wan said.

“Flattery isn’t my intention—I was merely pointing out facts. You wanted to know why I am giving you all this information and I am telling you: I want you as an ally. Join me, and together we can defeat the Sith.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, contemplating, as Dooku watched him with hawk-like eyes.

“I still believe you should take your theory to the Council,” he said carefully.

“You don’t believe me then,” Dooku said, faint disappointment colouring his voice.

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “I do not dismiss what you’ve said, but without evidence and while in this position,” he demonstratively wiggled the fingers of his chained hands, “it is hard to show the amount of trust needed to believe you.”

“I understand. I suppose I should have expected nothing less.” Dooku paused for a moment, seemingly considering. “There is something I would like to show you.”

“Oh?”

“We will need to move, however, so I ask that you accompany me on the condition that you will not try to escape or cause any harm.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Obi-Wan replied. Unarmed, and without the Force, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Dooku anyway, and they both knew it.

Dooku waved his hand, undoubtedly doing something with the Force that Obi-Wan was unable to sense at the moment, and the containment field generators shut off. The binders around his wrists and ankles unclipped and dropped him down the foot or so he had been floating above the ground. He stumbled a bit as his legs suddenly had to support his weight after being held immobile for so long, but luckily managed to regain his balance without falling flat on his face.

Dooku was watching him intently when Obi-Wan looked up—something that was starting to unnerve him. At Obi-Wan’s raised eyebrow, Dooku produced a pair of cuffs from the folds of his robe and held them out expectantly. Obi-Wan restrained himself from shooting an annoyed glare at Dooku and instead obediently placed his wrists inside the cuffs before they snapped shut. There was a time and place for resistance and now wasn’t it. At least his hands were chained together in front of his body instead of behind.

Another wave, and the door of his cell opened. Dooku motioned for him to step through first, obviously not so naïve as to turn his back to his captive. ‘Distrustful bastard,’ Obi-Wan thought as he stepped outside. Then again, he would have done the same had their places been reversed.

They were flanked by a small squad of battle droids as they stepped outside, Dooku staying at his side as they started to walk down the hallway. Obi-Wan used this opportunity to look around, doing his best to add the new information to what he already knew from his previous visit. He didn’t bother to disguise what he was doing—Dooku would know anyway, so there was no use pretending. They took a lift downwards and reached one of the lower levels where durasteel replaced the rough stone walls. Bright artificial light projectors lit their way instead of the natural sunlight. The Geonosian patrols he had seen on the upper level were substituted with droids – apparently Dooku only trusted the native population so far.

At the end of the hallway Dooku opened a broad door, and they stepped into the room behind it. On first glance there seemed to be nothing special in it: a corner with what appeared to be monitoring equipment, two screens, a control panel and two chairs. What caught Obi-Wan’s attention was the wall opposite to the door, the only thing not made from polished steel like the rest of the room, but a milky white material. Dooku led them to stand right in front of it, then motioned for one of the droids to man the control panel.

With the click of a button, the milky white turned transparent, making it clear that the wall hadn’t been wall at all, but a transparisteel window. It showed what appeared to be a sickbay room, one obviously meant for recovery. There was a small cubicle in one corner containing a ‘fresher and a closed door at the far right side without any apparent opening mechanisms. On the left side was one bed – judging from size and shape, one made for humanoids – and in it, sitting with his back to the headboard, was a man with long, dark grey-streaked hair that covered most of his face from this angle. He was reading a data pad, his pale arms covered in IV and monitoring lines leading back to the equipment at the side of the bed.

Obi-Wan was just about to turn around to Dooku and ask what exactly it was that he wanted to show him, when the man turned to face them, obviously only now having noticed he was being watched.

Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan froze, stunned disbelief surging through him, reason insisting that this was impossible, but the man in the bed looked exactly like his old master had just before he had died on Naboo. The regal features, piercing blue eyes, aquiline nose, the long hair that usually was pulled back but now fell freely, framing his face.

It was all he could do to cling onto his mental shields, keeping them wrapped as tightly around him as possible to contain the turmoil inside him. Confusion, joy, grief, hope – all swirled together in one big maelstrom. Only the control of the Jedi master in him kept his legs from giving out. He could feel Dooku watching him from the side and while he was sure that at the moment his face was merely a frozen mask of no expression, that alone would be enough to indicate to the former Jedi master just how unsettled he was.

Behind the window he could see Qui-Gon studying him, his intense gaze cataloguing every detail, eyes flitting over the Force collar and handcuffs. But there was no recognition on his face, no indicator that he knew who Obi-Wan was. But then again, why would there be? It had been ten years since they’d last seen each other, and unlike Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan looked quite different from when he had still been a padawan, so it was unlikely that Qui-Gon would be able to recognize him.

 _If_ this person really was Qui-Gon, something inside him whispered; the same rational part that kept desperately clamping down on the traitorous hope that continued to flare up within him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dooku wave at the droid, and a flicker went over the window. Qui-Gon’s eyes slid away and it took Obi-Wan a moment to realize that from his side, the window must have returned to its original, opaque state.

It couldn’t be, his mind screamed. Qui-Gon was dead, his body burned, the ashes scattered over the lake of Theed. Logic demanded that whatever was in that room had to be some sort of advanced clone technique, a hologram, a body morphing technology, an obscure Sith spell, anything but his former master in flesh and blood and soul. And yet, he couldn’t help but to let himself hope against hope that the impossible had been made possible. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have access to the Force right now. Just one moment and he would be able to tell if this apparition was truth or lie.

With effort he tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Dooku. If anything, he had to admit that the man had an excellent poker face. Especially in his current state, he had no way of telling what the man was thinking or feeling.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, only by sheer stubbornness keeping his voice from cracking from the emotions whirling inside.

“I wanted to show you why I do not trust the Jedi Order,” Dooku said.

If it weren’t for the handcuffs, Obi-Wan would have crossed his arms at this non-committal answer. At least they kept him from the temptation of punching Dooku in the face.

“Do enlighten me, then,” he retorted.

Dooku raised an eyebrow at the tone of the request, but started speaking.

“Ten years ago, I received a message from the Temple while I was here on Geonosis that my former padawan had died in battle. It took me two hours to get to Naboo, but the Temple had already dispatched two Jedi healers from a nearby outpost who arrived before I did. You weren’t conscious at that time – the healers told me that you had overexerted yourself by attempting to heal Qui-Gon with the Force, but that your efforts had been in vain and my padawan had still died.”

Obi-Wan sceptically tilted his head ever so slightly, but said nothing. It was true that he had fallen unconscious just shortly after the guards arrived at the power station to take him and Qui-Gon’s body. And even that event was mostly hazy in his mind – the attempts to keep Qui-Gon from dying had drained him so much that he hadn’t been able to fight the guards as they took his master from his arms no matter how much he had wanted to.

 

“The moment I arrived on Naboo I was certain that I had been lied to. Even though we had… drifted apart all that time ago, I still should have been able to feel the remnants of Qui-Gon’s spirit in the Force so shortly after he had supposedly died. So I began to search, thinking it to be some elaborate plot set up by the Darksiders.”

Dooku’s eyes fixed back on the med room before them, his face hardening with what Obi-Wan belatedly recognized as anger.

“I did find him, hidden and locked away not by the Sith, but by the same two Jedi Healers who had just expressed their condolences to me mere hours ago. Yet Qui-Gon was still alive and breathing, although in a deep healing stasis. In hindsight, I think it was your efforts that put him down under enough to keep him tethered to the edge of life. Back then, I was sure that someone was trying to abduct my former padawan without anyone else being the wiser. It was obvious that the Temple healers were involved or even responsible for this, and that there was someone high up in the Temple who had orchestrated it. Without knowing who to trust, I decided to take Qui-Gon back to Geonosis with me since the Geonosians would have the necessary facilities to care for such an injury.”

 “And then you decided to keep him prisoner for the next ten years?” Obi-Wan asked sarcastically.

“…And I thank you for your faith in me,” Dooku said. “In fact, I did not. Qui-Gon had been very close to death, and the stasis his body had been encouraged to enter – by you – had been accordingly deep. It took three months, even with bacta, for his body to heal the wound. But even after he was pulled out of the bacta, he didn’t come out of stasis. Neither I nor the Geonosian doctors knew how to treat something like this, and breaking him out forcibly could have killed him. As healing isn’t my speciality, I would have had to contact a Jedi healer, but there were none I could trust. They could have been in league with those I had met on Naboo. So I decided to wait – the stasis was bound to wear off at some point. And it did, three tendays ago.”

“A stasis lasting nearly ten years?” Obi-Wan asked disbelievingly. He wasn’t a healer, but in all his time as Jedi he had never heard of something like that, let alone thought it possible. The longest stasis he had heard of had been for 92 days. Still, it would explain why Qui-Gon didn’t look any older than he remembered him.

“Somewhat unprecedented, I’m sure, but when he survived such an injury it isn’t all that surprising to me anymore,” Dooku said. “He doesn’t know how much time has passed, however. He was very weak when he came out of the stasis and I did not want to impede his healing process.”

Obi-Wan wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe so, so badly that his former Master was alive. But Dooku’s words weren’t enough proof, neither was the sight of the medical room. For his own sake, he couldn’t trust anything Dooku said until he was able to confirm it with his own Force senses. Building up his hopes only to have them shattered again could very well be his undoing. He didn’t want to think what losing Qui-Gon again, even if only in such a way, would do to him.

“Can I speak to him?” Obi-Wan asked, unable to stop himself even when he already knew what the answer would be.

“Not yet,” Dooku answered. “If you do, however, choose to ally yourself with me…”

“Not above using your former padawan as leverage, then,” Obi-Wan said.

“We stand on the brink of a war against a very old and powerful evil, and I am finding myself very short on allies who are actually capable of opposing such an evil. So no, with the situation at hand I am not _above_ something like this,” Dooku said, dark eyes blazing.

 _Bold words_ , Obi-Wan thought, but decided not to antagonize his captor further. Dooku was building on the belief that he would do everything in his power to keep Qui-Gon from harm and that he would be very reluctant to leave him behind should he make an escape attempt. Sadly, he wasn’t exactly wrong in his assumptions – but he might have been miscalculating just how far Obi-Wan was willing to let his love for his former master affect his judgement. Something that might work in Obi-Wan’s favour, if he played his cards right. His own emotions were strong, yes, but they would only be harmful to his plans if he let them control him. Let Dooku think he held power over him; being underestimated by the former Jedi master might just give him the advantage he would sorely need if he wanted to escape from this place.

“I will need to think about your proposal before I can make a decision,” he said out loud instead.

“Understandable,” Dooku said. “I will give you three days, then I will demand an answer.”

Not as much as he had hoped for, but better than nothing. He nodded his assent and Dooku turned around towards the door, cape flowing dramatically behind him. Obi-Wan briefly entertained the fantasy of stepping on it just to see him flounder.

He threw one last glance at the window. With his current strategy he could allow himself as much wistfulness as he wanted. Qui-Gon hadn’t moved from his position, eyes still trained on the data pad. Obi-Wan wondered how much he knew about the situation, if he had gotten a similar offer from Dooku, and what his answer had been. Probably not very favourable; their relationship hadn’t been affectionate in the past and this situation wasn’t bound to improve it.

If this really was Qui-Gon, he reminded himself.

With effort he tore his eyes away, only to see Dooku looking at him. Obi-Wan was sure that if he had access to the Force he would be able to feel the self-satisfaction rolling off of the man in waves. For now, he met Dooku’s stare with a carefully constructed, indifferent mask that wasn’t fooling either of them.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Dooku said as he stepped through the door, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ‘Like a pet,’ he thought darkly as he trailed after him.

“Room _s_?” he said instead, emphasizing the plural marker. “How generous.”

“Master Kenobi, I wasn’t lying when I said that the previous accommodations were merely due to acute circumstances. As long as you don’t give me reason to think otherwise I will consider you a guest here and as such I am hardly going to keep you in a cell.”

Don’t cause any trouble and I won’t stick you in a containment field again. Lovely.


	2. Chapter 2

The rooms were nice. The main one was clad with plush, dark red carpet over the stone floor, ceiling lamps casting a warm glow over everything. The stone walls had been smoothed until they were close to shining in the light, the polish bringing out the veins of red and green in the light brown stone. One wall contained a meditation alcove, mat included. Bookshelves lined another wall, and next to them, an arrangement of comfortable armchairs and a couch. One door led to a very spacious ‘fresher, complete with a sunken-in bathtub that would have easily fit four people. The bedroom contained an enormous double bed with linens coloured in a deep green. One wall turned out to be a giant holoscreen, showing different panoramas, the selection adjustable via a remote control.

There were no windows. The main door had no controls on the inside, not even gaps between steel and stone where one could possible place a lever. The bedroom and ‘fresher were separated from the entrance room by solid doors, but in every corner of the rooms were small monitoring cameras, their joined field of view leaving no blank corners.

A small part of Obi-Wan regretted not throwing a spectacular tantrum in front of Dooku that would have resulted in him getting back to his old cell, which at least would have made him far more comfortable, mentally. The larger, more practical part acknowledged the advantage of access to running water, sanitary facilities, and an actual bed instead of the stone floor or a containment field that would have been bound to put a crick into his back sooner or later.

He found a small cupboard in one of the shelves that contained glasses and filled and drained one of them four times with tap water. If Dooku was attempting to insert civility into what was essentially a prisoner situation, he might as well join him and take advantage of it. Thus replenished, he filled the bathtub. It seemed somewhat wasteful on such a dry planet, considering the dimensions of it, but the hot water was bliss to his strained muscles and bruised skin. He washed off the dust that had been sticking to his body and hair, doing his best to work around the collar that was still encircling his neck. One of the cupboards in the ‘fresher contained towels, each of them easily the size of a blanket and big enough to make him nearly disappear in one as he wrapped it around his body. Another cupboard contained various toiletries, the next – to his surprise – an actual health kit. Nothing too advanced, but still equipped with disinfectants, bandages and bacta patches. He applied a few of the bigger patches to his right side and arm, where he had impacted with the ground after getting thrown of his feet by his exploding Starfighter, resulting in a most colourful smattering of blue and violet bruises.

He needed to meditate on everything Dooku had said, he needed to find a way to contact the council and to form an escape plan, and he would have to deal with the mess the sight of the maybe-real Qui-Gon had left behind inside him. But first and foremost, he needed sleep, even when his mind felt more restless than ever. He hadn’t had any real rest since before he had started his investigation on Kamino, only a light trance when he’d been in hyperspace on his way to the lost planet, and then his bout of unconsciousness during his capture, which hadn’t exactly replenished his energy. While a Jedi could go over a tenday without sleep before feeling serious physical repercussions, he didn’t want to face Dooku and his mind games with any more disadvantages than he had to.

His robes were still covered in the red sand of Geonosis, and the outer cloak and tunic scorched and torn in places where the explosion must have caught him. At least the undertunics were still mostly whole and after doing his best to get rid of most of the sand that clung to them he slipped into them as substitute for sleep clothes. He was probably still getting sand all over the bed, but then, that really wasn’t his problem.

He lay down, mindful of his bruised and still hurting side and the edges of the clunky Force collar digging into his neck. Everything in the subconscious, fight or flight part of his mind rebelled at the idea of falling asleep in such an environment, but a large part of being a Jedi was control over one’s self. Even if he couldn’t access the Force, he could still wrestle his mind into submission to a degree where he could force himself to fall asleep.

*

He awoke with a cramped neck, but otherwise feeling less tired and exhausted than before. He trudged into the bathroom, stripping out of the upper robe and peeled away the bacta patches. The bruises were still blue-ish, but fading into green on the edges and less vibrant than they had been before he went to sleep. He replaced the patches with new ones and returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

His robes were gone. He had put them on top of the armchair that was standing in one of the corners of the room and now there was no trace of them. In their stead lay a neatly folded pile of black cloth.

Someone had been in here while he had been resting, without him noticing. Sneaking up on a Jedi, even one who was asleep, required no small amount of stealth and a significant shielding ability. It certainly wasn’t something a simple droid could achieve. And somehow he doubted that it had been a Geonosian, whom Dooku didn’t seem to trust much, if his refusal to let them into the lower levels of his domain was any indication. So either the Geonosians had developed an advanced stealth robot or, by method of elimination of all other candidates, Dooku himself had been here. As a highly skilled Force user going against someone currently completely cut off from the Force, it would have been laughably easy to enter the rooms without being detected.

The thought sent shivers down his spine. Even though he knew that if Dooku decided on a whim to kill him now he wouldn’t stand much of a chance to get out alive, being this exposed and vulnerable made him a lot more uncomfortable. At least execution was something he would be facing with both eyes open.

He shook off the line of thoughts. No reason to give Dooku the satisfaction of seeing his attempt at intimidation techniques work. He walked over to the chair and picked up the cloth. It really was all black, the pants, the high collared tunic, even the slightly off-center row of buttons that was used to keep the tunic closed; somehow it didn’t surprise him to see a certain lack of creativity in Dooku’s fashion sense.

They fit well. Too well. Clinging closely to his waist and shoulder width in a way no standard-made robes would.  Unless someone had tailored them to his measurements.

 _I haven’t even been awake for more than twenty minutes_ , Obi-Wan thought as he adjusted the robe collar. Someone should give Dooku an award with how uneasy he could make one person with only one gesture.

He stepped out into the main room, taking a brief look around, but nothing else seemed to have changed during his sleep. He was just about to use the opportunity of undisturbed time for meditation, when the door slid open. A service droid rolled in, its square body barely reaching the height of Obi-Wan’s waist.

“Count Dooku requests your presence at dinner,” it said, its eye sensor trained on the Jedi. Obi-Wan looked past it to the open door, where a small squadron of battle droids was waiting.

“Does he now,” he murmured, taking in the blasters the droids were carrying.

“Count Dooku requests your presence at dinner,” the service droid before him repeated, the merits of rhetorical questions apparently lost on its programming.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” he said with a smile. “Lead the way.”

The droid beeped in confirmation and turned around to roll past the door, Obi-Wan behind him. Around him, the battle droids assumed their positions. There were seven in total, two of them walking at the front, one on each side, and three at the back.

The odds of emerging as victor in a fight against them were overwhelmingly in his favour. Even without the Force, dispatching the battle droids would have been more than easy, especially in such close quarters where they were more likely to shoot each other than him. The whole situation was just daring him to try and make an escape attempt.

And both he and Dooku knew that he wouldn’t. The lax security was just here to remind him that he was trapped in more ways than just locked cells and lethal guards.

Simple power play. And it was grating on his nerves. He briefly considered demolishing the battle droids only because he could, but that would mean showing his hand, however briefly. Better to let Dooku continue with his games – there was always the possibility that he might learn something useful from it. So he followed the droids compliantly through the hallways to a lift. The service droid rolled forward and expanded one arm to press the surface on a scanner beside the lift door, causing them to open after a brief delay. The inside was spacious enough to accommodate him and all of his mechanical companions without having to squeeze. The doors closed and then they were going upwards.

Seven seconds and the lift stopped again. The door opened to an anteroom, the floor covered in dark wooden panelling, the walls the same polished stone as those in Obi-Wan’s so-called guest rooms were. At the opposite side was a door, once again outfitted with a scanner. This technological paranoia was going to be a serious hindrance in any potential escape plans.

The droid opened the door, durasteel sliding to the side to reveal a large, half-circular room. The curving side was completely made of transparisteel, giving a panoramic view of the Geonosian sky and a slowly setting sun. In the middle of the room stood a large table made out of dark red wood. And at the head of it stood Dooku, striking an impressive figure against the background.

“Master Kenobi,” he greeted him, a polite smile on his face that did nothing to reassure Obi-Wan even as he walked towards the table. Behind him the droids stepped away and left, the door closing behind them with a whoosh sound that seemed a lot more foreboding all of sudden.

“Please, take a seat,” Dooku continued, motioning towards the chair on his right. Obi-Wan obeyed, noting with displeasure that it was the one with its back to the door. While the view of the horizon was certainly pretty, the view of the only exit of the room would have been a lot more appealing.

“I must say, black suits you,” Dooku said as he sat down on the head chair. “You should consider wearing it more often.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t quite to my own taste,” Obi-Wan replied, refusing to rise to the bait of bringing up the case of his missing robes.

“New tastes can always be acquired over time,” Dooku said.

Obi-Wan was saved from having to find a response by the sound of the door opening. The whirring of wheels; five, no, six service droids. Once again he missed his Force senses as he fought the urge to turn around and check. At least his hearing was sufficient to keep him from startling as the droids reached from behind him to deposit a plate and a glass of wine before him. On top of the plate was some kind of salad, finely cut leaves coloured in nuances of blue and violet.

“I can assure you, it’s not poisoned,” Dooku said as he noticed Obi-Wan’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Obi-Wan answered, demonstratively picking up his fork and spearing up a piece of salad. After all, if Dooku wanted to poison him, he wouldn’t have to resort to something as complicated as mixing drugs in food.

Obi-Wan had expected Dooku to strike up some sort of conversation, but he merely occasionally glanced at Obi-Wan as they ate in silence. Only once their plates were cleared and replaced with new ones carrying a small bird roast, did Dooku speak up.

“Tell me then, have you already thought on my offer?” Dooku asked as he took the wine glass, leaning slightly back in his chair as he swirled the liquid.

“I thought I had three days’ time,” Obi-Wan said.

“Ah, but I can’t help but be curious,” Dooku said, with a smile well-suited for a politician. “And I’d always appreciate a decision reached before the time limit.”

“Then I’m afraid I have to tell you that any decisions will require further contemplation of the matter at hand,” Obi-Wan replied diplomatically. “After all, the situation appears to be rather… complicated.”

“I _am_ aware that I haven’t been exactly forthcoming with information, but I assure you, it is merely out of necessity. If I were sure that you were on my side, this would cease to be a necessity.”

“And how exactly do you plan on affirming that I have indeed taken your side? I doubt that mere spoken promises will be enough to counterbalance this… necessity.”

“I want you to assure the Jedi Council that no threat is coming from here and that the Separatists were not responsible for any of the trouble caused on Coruscant in the past tendays.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I cannot afford to draw the attention of the Council and thereby of the Senate at this moment. For now, Separatists and Republic are still in balance, and as long as no side takes drastic actions, there will be no escalations.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward. “Are the Separatists not responsible for the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala then?” He did know that Dooku had admitted that much when he had overheard his conversation with the heads of the Trade Federation, but he was fairly certain—or at least desperately hoping—that Dooku wasn’t aware that he had snapped up that particular piece of information.

“Of course not,” Dooku said vehemently. “The Separatists may not want to be aligned with the Republic any longer, but we do not seek war – Senator Amidala’s bill would have supported that.”

Obi-Wan briefly wondered what would happen should he confront Dooku with the very contrary statements he had overheard. His reaction and excuses would surely be informative, but he’d also lose one of the very few advantages he had.

“You say that you don’t seek war, and yet you chose Geonosis with its weapon factories as your residence.”

“Every planet has its own military and defence industry – even peaceful ones such as Naboo. And there are many Republic planets that also do extensive weapon exports,” Dooku shot back.

Obi-Wan inclined his head in acknowledgement, contemplating the words as he ate the last bits of the bird. He wanted to ask Dooku about Jango Fett, but then, he also didn’t want to make Dooku think that he was too suspicious of him, lest he declare him a lost cause and imprison or kill him. He sighed inwardly. This would be much easier with the Force to guide him, though even with it he wouldn’t be able to get a read on Dooku’s mind – but then the same thing applied vice versa, so at least he wasn’t at disadvantage there. If he had to guess, he would say that the other man looked mostly satisfied with the answers, or rather questions he had gotten, but maybe he was just wearing a good mask to hide his anger deep inside.

His musings were interrupted by the service droids taking away the rest of the dinnerware. Dooku stood up and Obi-Wan followed his example.

“I am afraid I cannot linger much longer; work is calling,” Dooku said. “The droids will lead you back.”

“Can I see Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan asked bluntly before Dooku could turn away. Not quite the smooth way he had meant to bring the subject up, but better than having to wait for Force knows how long until he saw Dooku again.

For a few moments, Dooku was silent, piercing eyes studying Obi-Wan. The Jedi calmly held his gaze.

“You may watch him,” Dooku finally said slowly. “But watching only.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t really expected Dooku to grant his request, at least not without demanding something from Obi-Wan in return. His surprise must have bled through his composure, as the corners of Dooku’s mouth lifted up in an indulgent smile.

“Despite what your impression of me might be, it is not my intention to be deliberately cruel. As long as you don’t disturb him, I will not keep you from him.” For a moment, Dooku hesitated. “I know it might be difficult to believe, but do not think that I don’t empathize greatly with your worry about Qui-Gon.”

Of all the things Dooku had said and done today, this was the first one that actually threw him. Unsure of how to react – unsure of how he would react if he made the attempt to respond – he decided to forego the matter altogether and focus on the end result.

“Thank you for allowing me to see him then,” he said, bowing formally. When he straightened, Dooku was watching him intently, like he was trying to catalogue every small detail.

“Very well,” Dooku said. “I am afraid I have to leave, so the droids will accompany you to Qui-Gon. While I hope that it won’t be necessary, please keep in mind that any attempts of anything… untoward, will result in unpleasant consequences.” He looked to the side and Obi-Wan followed his gaze to the droid squadron that was walking into the room carrying electro staves.

Keep in line or get electrocuted.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan said.

*

The opaque mirror cleared as one of the droids punched the code into the control panel.

Even now that he knew what to expect, it still felt like a physical blow to see Qui-Gon, alive and breathing. Or at least someone who looked exactly like Qui-Gon, he forcibly reminded himself. Still, he kept his features calm, mindful of the holo cameras in the corners of the room.

He ignored the chairs and sat down on the stone floor in a cross-legged meditation pose. Behind the window, maybe-Qui-Gon was lying in the bed, eyes closed and breathing slow as he slept. By Geonosian day rhythm it was night by now after all, not that Obi-Wan’s own biorhythm shared that view. He let himself fall into a light meditation trance while keeping his eyes on maybe-Qui-Gon’s shape. Behind him the droids shuffled, but Obi-Wan paid them no mind. Dooku hadn’t specified how long he could stay here and he was not above taking advantage of that. So he let his body relax and set his mind to work.

Just over an hour later, a grating noise pulled him out of the trance. It took him a moment to realise that it was the droid equivalent of clearing one’s throat. He dragged his eyes away from the room, turning his head just slightly to the side to indicate that he was listening.

“Sir, we must leave,” the droid said. Dooku’s indulgence had a time limit then. Probably to keep him from getting any funny ideas if he stayed here too long.

Obi-Wan stood up, brushing off the dirt from the floor that had stuck on his clothes. Anakin’s remarks to the annoying omnipresence of sand did have some merit, not that he would ever openly admit as much to his padawan. As it was, he already had to listen to enough whining whenever they visited a desert planet.

 “Lead the way then,” he said, letting the droids surround him once more.

Walking through the by now familiar hallways, the droids delivered him to the door of his “room,” opening it by activating the scanner. Obi-Wan brushed past them as soon as the two head guards stood aside, close enough that the cloth of his tunic brushed against the droid. The door closed behind him with the same whooshing sound, sealing the only entrance airtight shut again.

Obi-Wan briefly looked around first in the main room, then in the bedroom, to see if there were any more surprises Dooku had left behind for him before walking into the bathroom. He briefly paused before the floor length mirror. He had always preferred the standard crème and brown robes of the Jedi, unlike Anakin who had insisted on mixing up his wardrobe as soon as he had become a senior padawan. So seeing himself in black was… unusual, at least. The dark clothes made his skin look paler and the red of his hair all the more pronounced. Combined with the sharp cut of the garments he made quite the striking figure.

He really missed his Jedi robes.

They at least would have given better coverage to the cameras than the black tunic with its less voluminous sleeves. But he would make do. Resting just beneath the hem of the sleeve was a thumbnail sized blaster cell, flat enough to not overly bulge the fabric. While a full blaster would have been more efficient for what he was planning to do, lifting the cell from one of the droids as he brushed past them had been decidedly easier, and its absence was less likely to be noticed. Focusing back on the mirror, he reached up to adjust the collar of the tunic, nimble fingers severing one of the small metal clasps from the buttons that held the two fabric folds together.

Now all he needed were a few moments to open up the cell and attach the metal clasp in a way that would make the cell short-circuit. It would cause the cell to spontaneously release its stored energy, which would roughly equal the power of the hundreds of blaster shots that were still safe inside. And hopefully he wouldn’t blow himself up in the progress.

He walked into the bedroom where someone had turned on the large holo screen wall to show a with star riddled night sky horizon. Obi-Wan grabbed the remote control from the night stand and switched it off, taking a moment to contemplate the best position for what he was about to do while stroking his beard, before he settled into a lotus seat on the floor, with his back leaning against the side of the bed and hands in his lap.

With the Force, working with very small components and high precision was very easy. But he didn’t have the Force. He didn’t even have his sight, as he kept his eyes closed to maintain the impression that he was meditating. Prying open the encasing of the blaster cell and attaching the clasp to only one side while making sure that it didn’t touch the other was a tedious and frustrating affair, but a Jedi was nothing if not patient, even if the process took him more than an hour, as he had to keep his movements as unnoticeable as possible.

With a sigh he opened his eyes and looked down at the modified cell under the pretence of slumping slightly over in exhaustion. The free clasp end was just hovering above the other pole of the cell and a slight pressure would be enough to press it down; a light pressure like hitting a solid surface with as much speed as a forceless individual could achieve with a throw. Obi-Wan stood up and walked around the bed to look into the main room with its reinforced door.

 _I just hope this works_ , Obi-Wan thought as he firmly gripped the power cell. Otherwise this was going to look very embarrassing. He stepped half-way out of the cover from the wall of the bedroom and, with as much strength as he could muster, threw the small chip. Immediately, he turned to press his back against the bedroom wall.

Not a second too late.

A shock wave tore through the bedroom entrance, blasting dust and debris past him as the wall against his back vibrated with the Force that was travelling through the structure. The sound of the explosion was ear-splitting, leaving behind an aching ringing in his head as he stumbled away from his safe encroach.

The main room was ruined – dust was coating every surface, furniture, and carpet ripped apart and singed from the explosion. The entrance door was still standing, only slightly blackened, but very much not open. Not that it mattered – the door might be nearly indestructible, but the wall in which it had been set was not. The polished stone had shattered into large chunks that had been pushed into hallway. Obi-Wan swiftly walked closer, noticing two droid limbs sticking out of the rubble where one of his guards had apparently been squashed. The second droid stepped through the hole just as Obi-Wan had reached the door. Before its sensors had really registered what was happening, Obi-Wan had wrenched the electro staff it carried from its grasp and shoved one of the ends into its chest. The droid spasmed under the current and collapsed, Obi-Wan wrenching off its arm and its blaster before it hit the floor. In a fight the blaster would be more useful than the staff, as any enemies he would encounter would likely try to shoot him with stun bolts from a distance, which were hard to deflect with a slim staff and without the Force.

He darted into the hallway and started running. One of the rooms around here had to have some sort of monitoring equipment and hopefully a corresponding terminal.

It took twenty precious seconds and three doors, opened with the help of the droid’s appendage, before he found what he was searching for. It was just a small room, but it had an array of holovid feeds arranged on several screens, and a terminal. On one of the feeds he could already see droid reinforcements coming closer. He shut the door and shot a few blaster bolts at the controls, shortening the lock mechanism out, then set to work on the terminal.

The droids were just starting to pound at the door by the time he had cracked the encryption. Before him unfolded an archive of folders, most of them with their own, probably much more advanced encryption. Not that it mattered – all he had to do was send the data to the Jedi Council on Coruscant and they could take care of any remaining technical obstructions. Hastily he packaged the files and started calibrating the long-range transmitter of the network. Some data would be lost due to the rushed job, but hopefully enough would be transmitted to give the Council a good idea of what Dooku was up to.

Behind him the door was starting to glow red and bright white where the droids had plunged their vibroblades through the metal. They wouldn’t get through in time. He only had to adjust the transmitter to the right frequency and—

There was a sharp prick on the side of his neck. Instinctively, his left hand shot up to clasp at his neck, fingers grabbling at the metal Force collar that covered the spot in question.

 _Poison_ , he thought, and then the world suddenly tilted to the side. He stumbled as all strength seemed to leave his legs, trying in vain to steady himself by holding onto the control panel with his free right hand, but his arm seemed just as unable to hold any weight as his legs did. His knees buckled and he fell towards the side, limp hand sliding away from the panel as he couldn’t even order his fingers to try to hold onto something. He hit the metal floor with his left side – at least it wasn’t the one he had injured during the Starfighter explosion. The side of his face was uncomfortably mashed into the criss-cross pattern of the floor, and his left arm was trapped under his body as he lay half on his side, half on his belly. He was somewhat surprised that he still remained conscious – his thoughts didn’t even feel muddled. He just couldn’t move a single muscle below his neck.

At least now he knew why Dooku was so lax about security. He probably could have stopped Obi-Wan the moment he had blown through the cell wall, but then, it had so much more impact when he had been this close to reaching his goal. He had expected that his plan would fail – there had been too many unknown variables and a very distinct lack of advantages on his side – but having the hope of success snatched away at the last moment like this was still very frustrating.

From behind him came a resounding crash as the droids finally got through the door. Metal feet clanked against metal floor and a few pairs of droid legs entered his limited field of vision of the lower side of one wall of the room.  He expected to be hauled up and dragged to some Force-forsaken cell, but the droids merely assumed a circular formation around him and then proceeded to do nothing.

They waited for about ten minutes. Had he been able to move, he would have started drumming his fingers against the floor. His left arm was starting to get numb from being squashed under his body and his cheek was itching from where a strand of his hair was tickling it.

Finally, he could hear the faint sounds of approaching steps. They stopped in front of where he had approximated the door was – or had been at least.

“Master Kenobi, you disappoint me,” Dooku said as he walked into the room. Obi-Wan decided to not even deign that statement with an answer. Dooku’s boots entered his vision, but even with a lot of effort he couldn’t look further than the height of his knees.

“And blowing up the entire room was just unnecessary,” Dooku added.

“Well, I just couldn’t find the door handle, so I had to look for an alternative,” Obi-Wan shot back.

Above him, Dooku sighed. Had Obi-Wan been able to move, he would have flinched when he felt tendrils of the Force curl around his limbs and torso. Suddenly he was somewhat grateful to the Force collar; getting drenched in someone’s Force energy when one really didn’t want to was already bad enough to make his skin crawl without being able to feel the finer nuances of the Force energy.

With more care than he had expected, he was turned over onto his back. Pins and needles shot through his numb arm as the weight of his body was finally taking off from it. A hand grabbed his chin and then his head was turned to the side so he was looking at Dooku who had crouched down next to him.

He had expected see anger or annoyance, but instead the Count merely seemed amused. _Nice to know that at least one of us is having fun here_ , Obi-Wan thought, scowling inwardly.

“While I cannot condone the nature of your little… enterprise, your means were quite impressive. Not to mention effective. You certainly live up to your reputation, Master Kenobi.”

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” Obi-Wan said.

Dooku chuckled. “Oh, I do hope so,” he said, finally letting go of Obi-Wan’s chin and standing up. “The paralytic should wear off in about two hours. I expect that you will see this as a learning experience.” Dooku turned around and left, cloak billowing after him dramatically. Two of the droids stepped forward, metal hands clasping down on his arms as they pulled him up and out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

It took one and a half hour until he could manage small twitches again and indeed two full hours until he had enough control over his body to sit up from where the droids had laid him down on the floor of his new room slash cell.

It was smaller, with only one room and one ‘fresher, but then that didn’t mean much when compared to the opulence of his last quarter. Everything was still much larger than it needed to be for one person, and designed for comfort instead of captivity. Except for the walls, which were made of durasteel. An understandable precaution, though Obi-Wan hadn’t been planning on blowing up his room again – trying to escape using a method that had already failed was highly unlikely to be met with success.

With not much else to do to pass the time, he settled for meditating once again. For the next step in his plan he would need the cover of the bed and its blanket, and going to sleep this early would just raise suspicion.

He waited for six hours, rousing from the trance when he felt the first nudges of tiredness. Judging from the height of the sun when he had eaten with Dooku and the time that had passed in between it had to be early morning outside now. Nearly one rotation of Dooku’s deadline had passed, and he had two more to go. Hopefully that would be enough.

He found a bundle of sleep clothes in the ‘fresher, changed, then climbed into bed and turned the lights off. Not that that would be much use in trying to hide what he was doing – the holo cameras would surely be outfitted with night vision – so the blanket would have to suffice.

A bit of rummaging, disguised as burying his head into the pillow and then the remote control he had pocketed from his old quarters was in his hand. At least it was a bit larger than the tiny blaster cell had been, but since the modification he wanted to do were a lot more complicated than just short-circuiting that was only a small consolation. With an inaudible sigh he settled himself in for a long night.

Every astromech unit had their own frequency, which was usually tuned in to their assigned Starfighter and the communication equipment of the pilot. All of it finely constructed and programmed instruments and machinery – not like this small holo remote which in comparison was archaic in its simplicity. But it was still able to send out a signal at a certain frequency – which was all Obi-Wan needed it to do. The problem with the plan was that it all hinged on Arfour still being operational and being free to move.

But then Anakin always kept telling him to have a bit more faith in the robots he himself adored so much. So he set out on yet another task that made him wish for smaller fingers. He adjusted the sending and receiving frequency to the one Arfour should be operating on and set up a small circuit that would send out a small shock to anyone who touched it when the control received an incoming signal.

He sent out Arfour’s identification number in morse code and then waited with baited breath. Just when he was starting to resign himself to having to come up with some even more desperate last-minute gamble, the control in his hand sent a small jolt up his arm.

Relief flooded through him and he privately took back every instance where he had complained about Anakin’s habit of making some other ridiculous modification to his astrodroid.

*

The droid arrived ten hours after he had gone to bed, ten hours of which he had only spent three hours actually sleeping and the rest of it first on modifying the control and then painstakingly slowly relaying his plan to Arfour.

Without access to the Force he didn’t get a warning before the door slid open, causing him to go from blissful sleep to instant alertness, one hand reaching for a lightsabre that wasn’t there. Unbothered by that, the service droid rolled in, carrying a bundle of clothes which it deposited on one of the chairs.

“Once you are finished dressing, Count Dooku requests your presence,” the droid chirped, rolling towards the door which opened to reveal another small squad of battle droids already waiting.

 _Wonderful way to wake up_ , Obi-Wan grumbled inwardly, taking the clothes and retreating from the blank stares of the droids to the 'fresher. As he dressed, he hid the small control in the waistband of his new clothes – in black as usual, how versatile.

The droid squad didn’t carry blasters this time, only electro staves. So apparently Dooku had figured out his little trick with the blaster cell. Once again they took a lift to one of the upper levels, though they exited onto a lower level than last time. As the squad led him through another maze of hallways, Obi-Wan was once more stunned by how big the whole facility was – it would be no small hindrance in any attempts to get out of it.

Dooku was already waiting for him, a cup of what judging by smell must be caf on the round table before him and a data pad in his hand from which he looked up from when Obi-Wan entered the room.

“Master Kenobi,” Dooku greeted him, which Obi-Wan returned with a slight nod. “Please, do take a seat,” he continued, motioning towards the other chairs at the table. Obi-Wan took the one opposite to Dooku, mustering the other man with a mask of calm on his face.

“Would you like a cup of caf?” Dooku asked.

“No thank you,” Obi-Wan said politely. “I would take tea though, if you are offering.”

Dooku nodded and made a waving motion with his hand and one of the service droids waiting at the edge of the room whirred away.

“Did you sleep well? You seem tired,” Dooku said. The question seemed innocently enough, especially since Obi-Wan had seen himself in the mirror after he woke up, but it still made him sharply aware of the weight of the control on his hip and that he couldn’t fail now, not when success was this close within reach.

“You did give me a lot to think about after all,” Obi-Wan replied. “Sleep might have somewhat eluded me in favour of… contemplation.”

“I am glad to hear that my words have not been immediately dismissed then,” Dooku said with a smile.

Not immediately dismissed indeed. The possible implications still weighed heavily on Obi-Wan’s mind. Outwardly he merely shrugged and tried to not let his worry show.

The droid from before reappeared, carrying a small tray with a tea pot and one mug which it deposited at his right and then whirred away. Obi-Wan busied himself with pouring the tea and pretended to not notice Dooku’s eyes on him.

“Was there something particular you wanted to talk about?” Obi-Wan finally asked when he held the full and steaming mug in his hands.

“In particular may be somewhat exaggerated, but there was something I wanted to show that came up this morning,” Dooku said and held out the data pad to him. After a brief moment of hesitation that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Obi-Wan took it from him with the same amount of care he would have reserved for handling an unlocked weapon.

The pad’s screen displayed the front page of Holonet News, most of it taken up by one big article, which headline read ‘Senate approves Military Creation Act’. ‘Ah, fuck,’ Obi-Wan thought as he skimmed over the article. Not good. Not good at all. The Council was probably in high alarm and Senator Amidala was going to be livid once the news reached her, and rightfully so.

“So, what do the Separatists say to this?” Obi-Wan asked, looking up at Dooku.

“That depends on whom you ask, Master Kenobi,” Dooku said, his face as unreadable as ever. “We are not as much a homogenous group as the Republic likes to think.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Consider the question directed at yourself then.”

“Well, this aggressive turn might encourage more worlds to join our course. But it also brings us even closer to open warfare, which is something I’d rather avoid.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Of course. At the moment the military power between us and the Republic may be somewhat equally spread, but should it come to war, the Republic has far more resources at their disposal, as well as the Jedi order, so victory would always be theirs in the long run.”

Unless the Separatists would manage to gather more worlds under their reign. By whatever means they chose.

“Anyway,” Dooku continued, “the Separatists are not meant to be a military union. It’s more about supporting other worlds in their efforts to break free from the Republic.”

“’Break free’? A forceful choice of words.”

“Leaving the Republic is far from simple these days,” Dooku shot back. “For more than the past decade the Senate has been passing bills for stricter requirements and stipulations that will hit a world once it decides it wants to exit the Republic, all in their campaign to gain more control over the worlds under their jurisdiction. Some of these are the exclusion from often vital trade routes, which loss would cripple the world’s economy. Which is exactly the intent, as such stipulations make sure that the Senate’s area of influence doesn’t become smaller.”

“Are you accusing the Senate of being greedy for power?”

“Not the whole Senate. Only a certain faction.”

“The one controlled by the Sith I assume.”

Dooku nodded and Obi-Wan looked down at his by now empty tea mug. The former Jedi master was making a good case – the increasing chokehold of control the Senate seemed to be enforcing on the Republic’s worlds had always been one of the points why Obi-Wan himself was so disapproving of them. Often enough it had come up on the diplomatic missions he’d had with Anakin, more than one government chafing under the restricting regulations.

Maybe the Count was telling the truth about the Sith and the Senate. Maybe he wasn’t. In any case, there were too many unsolved questions and doubts to take his words at face value. And if everything went according to plan, some actual answers might be discovered very soon.

“I have to leave,” Dooku said, interrupting Obi-Wan’s musings, apparently satisfied with the perturbations he had caused the Jedi. “The recent developments have caused quite the upstir in our ranks, as you can certainly imagine. The droids will take you back to your room.”

Obi-Wan watched Dooku exit the room, leaving behind the droids that were looking at him expectantly. Or as much as they could anyway with their empty face plates. With a sigh Obi-Wan stood up, the droids surrounding him the moment he stepped away from the table, herding him back to the lift.

It was as good a time to start implementing Phase 2 of his plan as any. Maybe even the best since he doubted that another break-out attempt would be expected so soon. Still, he couldn’t quite manage to dispel all of his anxieties. He could let it all go. Could continue to go along with Dooku, who had yet to completely prove that he intended to harm the Republic, who even had a good chance of being right, could keep Qui-Gon safe from any repercussions that would occur if he incited Dooku’s ire. It would be so _easy_. All he had to do was to _not_ break out. Maybe refrain from blowing up more stuff too.

But just because a path was easy didn’t mean that it was right. And in the end he had sworn an oath to the Republic and the Jedi Order he intended to uphold.

The whole facility was outfitted with security holocameras, just as both of his rooms had been. However, the cameras in the hallways were less thorough in catching every single angle and on the path from the lift back to his rooms/cell there were at least two spots large enough to swallow him and his entourage of eight droids.

He stopped at the first one they came across, causing the rear end of the squad to nearly barrel into him. The two droids chattered indignantly as they struggled not to trip over their own legs. The sound caused the entire squad to stop, the front droids turning around.

“What are you two doing?” the lead droid demanded to know, managing to make the standard synthetic voice sound annoyed.

“It wasn’t us! The Jedi just stopped,” one of the droids defended itself.

The lead droid fixed its sensors on Obi-Wan, who returned its blank stare without batting an eyelash.

“Let’s just keep walking,” it finally said, turning around and taking a first step, obviously expecting its order to be followed without protest.

“Er, boss, he’s still not moving,” one of the droids behind him said, causing the lead droid to whirl around with screeching metallic joints. Anakin liked to taunt his opponents with all kinds of verbal assaults, but Obi-Wan had always found that doing nothing and remaining passive could serve just as well when it came to infuriating others. Even droids, if the angry metallic clicking that came from the lead droid was any indication.

“Is this some kind of Jedi thing?” one of the droids at his side whispered to its companion.

“I don’t care, what this is,” the lead droid hissed. Turning towards Obi-Wan it continued: “Look, Jedi, either you start moving now,” it charged up its electro staff, “or you’ll get the business end of this at the highest setting and we drag you back.” Threateningly it raised the crackling point end at Obi-Wan’s.

It was all he needed. All it took was a slight pitch forward and the end of the staff touched the metal collar at his throat, causing the electricity of the staff to spring over.

Obi-Wan knew for a fact that the staff was at a medium setting at most, but getting electrocuted still hurt like hell. The current caused his legs to give out as his body seized, which luckily broke the contact to the staff, enabling him to at least catch the rest of the fall with his arms. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain from the sudden abuse, but at the same time he could feel the Force flowing back to him, the circuitry in the collar fried from the high voltage, its gentle presence already starting to soothe the hurts the electricity had left behind.

Above him the droids were chattering agitatedly, obviously unsure what to do with this turn of events. Before they had a chance to do anything potentially detrimental, like contacting Dooku, Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and touched into their radio relays, disabling the transmitter antennae and adjusting the receiver frequency. He retrieved the remote control from its hiding place and sent two quick clicks to Arfour.

From one moment to the next the chatter stopped as Arfour started sending commands to the droids’ receiver antennae. There was a brief moment of silence, and then a chorus of jumbled ‘roger, roger’ emitted from the droid squad. The lead droid turned and looked down at Obi-Wan.

“We’ve got new orders. You stay here until the replacement squad arrives, you hear me?” the droid commanded.

“I hear you,” Obi-Wan responded, his voice strained to add to the image of weak-and-electrocuted-Jedi-master-definitely-no-threat-here. It seemed to satisfy the droid who gave a signal to the rest of the squad and they rounded the corner to walk back the way they had come.

Obi-Wan waited for three seconds, then gathered himself up from the floor and dashed down the hallway, using the Force to turn holocameras away from his figure. Twenty seconds until the squad reached the lift. Ten seconds until they reached the upper levels. Approximately thirty seconds until they stumbled across the first Geonosian patrol and started attacking them, as according to Arfour’s orders.

Left, straight, straight, right, left door. A single droid was standing in the surveillance room, turning around when Obi-Wan ripped open the door with a bit more force than strictly necessary. The droid didn’t get out more than a squawk before the Force compressed it into a ball of metal scrap. Obi-Wan paid it no mind as he strode through the room to the non-transparent window that was blocking the view into the med room. Not that it mattered – with access to the Force he didn’t need sight to feel the living being on the other side.

For a moment he hesitated – so far he had only skimmed over the other Force signature, enough to know that they were a living being. But the minute he focussed his attention, the minute he truly _looked_ he would know, with brutal, uncompromising certainty. Emotion, yet peace, he silently recited the Jedi code to himself, then took a deep breath and stretched out his Force sense.

The Force presence crystallized sharply in his perception, glaringly bright, full of life and warmth and very unmistakeably Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan swayed on his feet, leaning with one hand against the transparisteel to keep himself from falling. It really was Qui-Gon. Alive, breathing, not dead Qui-Gon. His chest nearly hurt with overfilling joy, the intensity of his emotion taking his breath away. He could have cried tears of happiness right then and there, but he sharply reminded himself that above all he had a mission to complete.

He half-walked, half-stumbled over to the control panel, mechanically punching the buttons as he had observed the droid doing just one day before, his mind still half-wrapped around the presence just three metres away. Now that the shock had worn off he noticed that upon closer look, it felt diminished, as if hidden behind blurred glass. The signature was still Qui-Gon, but the intensity was less than it should be. Force suppressors, no doubt. And since he hadn’t seen a Force collar on him during his visits they had to be of pharmaceutical nature.

 _I can’t tell him_ , Obi-Wan realized, halting with his fingers hovering above the final button. Without the Force to back him up and with his changed appearance there was no way that Qui-Gon would believe that it was really Obi-Wan standing before him. He’d think that he was being tricked by Dooku, just as Obi-Wan had, which would be fatal to a joint escape attempt. With effort Obi-Wan swallowed the grief and frustration that threatened to rise inside him. Later, once they had managed to escape. He only had to be patient.

Mentally steeling himself, he pushed the last button and turned around as the wall became once again transparent. Qui-Gon was again sitting on the bed, this time in a traditional lotus seat, his eyes closed as he meditated. In lack of more refined options, Obi-Wan started banging against the transparisteel. Some of the ruckus must have gotten through, as Qui-Gon opened his eyes, surprise settling on his features.

‘Take cover,’ Obi-Wan mouthed, not daring to start screaming as loudly as would have been necessary to get through the transparisteel. For a moment Qui-Gon looked puzzled, then understanding crossed over his face and he vaulted behind the bed. Obi-Wan pressed one hand flat against the window, pushing with the Force in a fast rhythm. The transparisteel under his hands began to vibrate as he matched the oscillations, deep humming going quickly to a high pitched whine until it shattered.

Tiny shards sprayed in all directions, crackling against Obi-Wan’s own protective Force shield. Silence, then rustling as Qui-Gon rose from behind the bed, shaking a few transparisteel bits out of his hair.

For a moment they stared at each other.

“So,” Obi-Wan said, “want to get out of here?”


	4. Chapter 4

Qui-Gon levelled him with a calculating stare that years ago would have made Padawan Kenobi squirm. Knight Kenobi didn’t react to the scrutinizing and instead waited with as much patience as one can muster when the immediate threat of battle droids bursting through the doors was hanging over their heads.

“Alright,” Qui-Gon said a heartbeat later, his voice raspy from what Obi-Wan presumed to be disuse. Carefully Qui-Gon climbed over the remains of the transparisteel window, taking care not to accidentally cut himself, before drawing up to his full height before Obi-Wan. It might have been intimidating had Obi-Wan not been very used to years of his former master towering over him.

“Great,” Obi-Wan said. “Are you able to use the Force at the moment?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I have been administered some kind of Force suppressing drug.”

“Unfortunate, but to be expected I suppose,” Obi-Wan said, turning away from Qui-Gon to rummage through the remains of the battle droid.

“Take this,” he said, holding out the blaster the droid had been carrying. “And please don’t shoot me in the back with it.”

Qui-Gon took the blaster with a raised eyebrow, but the corners of his mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a small grin. “I’ll do my best,” he said, shortly inspecting the blaster before looking back to Obi-Wan. “Who are you?”

He had known that that question would come and that it would hurt, but that didn’t make it easier in the slightest. Somewhere deep down he had still been hoping that Qui-Gon would recognize them once they were face to face. But now Qui-Gon didn’t show any sign of thinking him to be just another of the thousands of Jedi Knights from the Order. Only a stranger who he simply hadn’t met before. Obi-Wan felt as if someone had reached deep into his chest and crushed whatever they could grab hold of in a tight fist.

“Knight Mehran Leht,” he fluidly lied past the emotional chokehold his throat seemed to be in. Qui-Gon seemed to accept his words as truth, which was somehow both good and very very wrong.

“I’m—”

“Master Qui-Gon Jinn, I know,” Obi-Wan interrupted him, then at Qui-Gon’s stare added: “You became somewhat known after you died on Naboo. Or not died, apparently.” Truth but still lie by omission. Such a great start. “We need to get moving, some droids will get here sooner or later.” And so that Qui-Gon couldn’t ask him any more questions until he’d managed to put himself back together again.

Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan without further prompting, staying just half a step behind him as they snuck into the hallway.

“Not to question your authority, but is there a higher plan involved other than trying to find the next exit?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

“There is, actually,” Obi-Wan said, thumbing at the control clutched in his hand. “The higher plan is to find my astromech droid and then the next exit.”

Whatever Qui-Gon was going to answer to that was drowned out by the sudden wailing of the alarms.

“Can I suggest that due to time pressure we skip step one?” Qui-Gon asked over the cacophony.

 “The alarm isn’t for us, it’s for the distraction,” Obi-Wan said. “It just means that the droids and Geonosians have finally started really fighting each other.”

“The Geonosians?” Qui-Gon repeated.

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to see a perplexed expression on Qui-Gon’s face. “Yes, Geonosians,” Obi-Wan confirmed with a confused frown. “They are in charge of the upper levels of the building.”

“Are we on Geonosis then?” Qui-Gon asked after a moment.

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I woke up in that room approximately two tendays ago and haven’t seen anything else ever since.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said. At least Dooku hadn’t lied about that then. “Alright. We’re in a complex of one of the Geonosian weapon factories near the equator and somewhere in the middle of a large desert. Also about two hundred metres underground.”

“Ah. I see,” Qui-Gon said. “I suppose there are worse places to be.”

“There are always worse places to be,” Obi-Wan muttered as they continued to forge ahead.

Most of the droids seemed to be busy upstairs and they easily managed to dodge the two squads they came across on their way. So of course their luck had to run out just shortly before their destination.

Arfour had hidden himself in the main server room of the underground levels for easier access to the droid networks, and of course the actual servers. The remaining problem was that such a critical location was protected, and even more so in times of crisis. Which Obi-Wan had expected. Except that a dozen MagnaGuards was a bit more overkill than he had planned for.

“That looks bad,” Qui-Gon calmly remarked after he too had snuck a glance around the corner at the droids.

“I can try to bring down the ceiling on them, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get all twelve. Six maybe.”

 “Between the two of us we should be able to take down the other six,” Qui-Gon said, hefting the blaster.

“You are aware that blaster fire is mostly ineffective against MagnaGuards,” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’ll aim carefully.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead edging forward until the next hallway was visible just enough. He put one hand on the wall next to him, breathed in and reached for the Force, following its path through the stone to the ceiling, feeling for the enclosures crossing through otherwise solid stone, running his mental touch along their edges to find the best course for the fissure.

He breathed out and a three-ton chunk broke out of the stone and dropped on the droids, crushing reinforced durasteel armour like it was made out of tin foil. Five of the droids had managed to dash out of the way of the crude projectile, a sixth one had had its leg smashed by the rock but was still operating. All of them were still whirling around, searching for their attackers and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon dashed forward before they had the chance to recuperate.

It had been nearly ten years and yet moving alongside Qui-Gon in battle came as natural as breathing, like he had never stopped fighting with him at his side. Qui-Gon’s presence was like a bonfire in the Force, even in its subdued state, which flared even brighter when he attacked, tearing through the droids with precise blaster shots to the few weak points the MagnaGuards’ armour had at their necks and armpits, dodging their heavy swinging arms with an agility one never expected from someone with such a large stature.

All that registered just at the edge of his perception, the small part of his mind that had always been aware of Qui-Gon when he had still been a padawan, just where the remnants of their bond had been. Obi-Wan reached for the Force once more, concentrating its energy in the palms of his hands, combining it with the brute force of his punches which left cleaving holes in the droids that were unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

It only took a few seconds and then it was over, the two Jedi standing among the wreckage of smouldering droid parts. Obi-Wan ripped open the door to the server room with the Force, revealing rows upon rows of blinking server towers.

“Arfour?” he called out into the darkness.

A rapid series of high-pitched beeps came as answer and a few moments later Arfour rolled into the cone of light that was coming from the door.

“Hey there,” Obi-Wan said, kneeling down at eye—or rather sensor-level of the droid. More frantic beeping, at a speed that challenged his, in comparison to Anakin’s, slow understanding of binary, and what was that about a—

“A hardware file transfer?” Obi-Wan echoed, thinking that he must have misunderstood, but Arfour merely beeped an affirmation, turned around and whirred away into the darkness, obviously expecting them to follow. Obi-Wan bit back a Huttese curse and dashed after the droid.

Arfour finally stopped after two turns in front of a completely nondescript server tower that looked exactly like all the others. The droid let out another string of beeps.

“What is he saying?” Qui-Gon asked, reminding Obi-Wan that his former master’s grasp on droid languages was worse than his own, as he always had had problems with connecting to beings whose sentience was not directly reflected in the Living Force.

“We need to manually remove one of the server chips because the encryption on that one is too heavy for Arfour to get through,” Obi-Wan said as he pried off the casing of the tower with a mix of Force use and brute muscle strength. “Which hopefully means that there is all kinds of important information on it.”

“What about the rest of the servers? Why limit yourself to only one chip?”

“Oh, Arfour has spent the last five hours copying the rest of the data onto his memory drive,” Obi-Wan said as he took hold of the palm-sized chip Arfour indicated and started severing the cables connecting to it.

Qui-Gon raised a surprised eyebrow. “That’s quite the advanced astrodroid you have.”

“Special modifications made by my padawan,” Obi-Wan said, not bothering to conceal the undertone of pride in his voice. With a final twist and pull the chip wrenched free and was pocketed by Obi-Wan.

Without further ado they left the server room, hurrying in the direction of the lift with as much speed as Arfour was able to muster.

“What exactly are you hoping to find in all that data?” Qui-Gon asked with as much quiet as possible.

“I…” Obi-Wan started, then stopped, unsure how much he should and could reveal to Qui-Gon.

“Please?” Qui-Gon asked, mistaking his hesitation for mistrust. “Dooku used to be my master and I would like to know just how far he has… fallen.”

The telling brief pause made his heart ache for the other man. He very much would have liked to deny Qui-Gon’s assessment, but for all of Dooku’s pretty words, there was the undeniable truth that he had tried to kill Padmé, and had caused Dormé’s death. And killing innocent sentients for personal gain was about as much antithesis to the principles of the Jedi as one could get. Not to mention that he might be planning to start a war that would have at least a nine-digit number of casualties.

Obi-Wan bit his lip as he weighed his next words, but in the end there was just no gentle way to break what he knew to Qui-Gon.

“I discovered that Dooku has tried to have a senator assassinated and that he has formed an alliance with the Trade Federation, the Banking Clan and the Techno Union to amass a droid army. So mostly this is about finding out the motivation and end goals behind his actions.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, “I see.” His voice was calm but Obi-Wan knew him well enough to see the tension and pain that etched itself further into his face. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know if there are any more Jedi imprisoned here?”

For a moment, Obi-Wan was confused – someone already having two Jedi prisoners at once was a rare thing, let alone more than that – until he discerned the actual question hidden beneath.

_Oh, Qui-Gon_ , he thought sadly. He wanted nothing more than to reach out towards the other man, to tell him that his padawan was here and alive and well and overjoyed to see his master again, but he couldn’t.

“No. I haven’t seen or felt anyone else strong enough in the Force in the few days I’ve been here,” he said, the words sounding harsh in comparison to the comfort he so longed to offer. It’s just temporary, he told himself. It’s for his own good. But the words sounded hollow when he saw the obvious fear and worry washing over Qui-Gon’s face, quickly hidden but there nonetheless, even when Qui-Gon nodded and turned his gaze ahead again.

They stopped in front of the lift doors, Arfour manipulating the sensors to call down the lift, while Qui-Gon had fallen silent, visibly mulling over the new information.

Their brief moment of respite was interrupted by the doors opening, revealing a lift filled to the brim with battle droids. At least judging by their pause they seemed just as surprised at the encounter.

“The Jedi are escaping!” one of the droids at the front screeched, and then all of them raised their blaster in unison, undoubtedly intent to knock them down with a few dozen stun shots. Reacting on reflexes honed by years of battle experience, Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, forming a huge noose around the droids and pulling it tight. The droids were crushed together, machinery breaking as it was caught between the unyielding Force grip and other droid parts.

Obi-Wan released the grip and the mangled remains of the droids fell to the floor. He could feel the Force surging through him like leftover adrenaline and he dimly realized that he might have overtaxed himself a bit in his haste. The lift tilted and for a moment he thought he might have somehow damaged its stabilizers with his inelegant destruction, until he realized that it was not the lift that was going sideways, but his own vision. Strong hands enveloped his upper arms, stopping the sideways shift.

“Mehran? Mehran!” he could hear Qui-Gon’s voice calling from somewhere afar, the sound muted against the Force waves crashing in his mind. ‘Who the fuck-?’ Obi-Wan thought dimly. ‘Ah, me, he means me.’ This was exactly why making up false names on the fly was a bad idea.

With a great amount of effort, he pulled away from the warm embrace of the Force he was threatening to get lost in, refocusing his senses to the outside once more. Qui-Gon’s face hovered inches before his own, concern plain in his eyes.

“’m fine,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“Obviously,” Qui-Gon said sarcastically, herding him into the lift.

“I just overreached a bit after being cut off from the Force for the last three days,” Obi-Wan tried to reassure him. “Force collar,” he added in response to Qui-Gon’s questioning gaze.

Qui-Gon frowned. “When exactly did you get that off?”

“About half an hour ago?”

Qui-Gon stared at him incredulously. “Then you shouldn’t be using the Force at all for now, let alone on such a large scale! You could have lost completely yourself in the Force back there!”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “But I didn’t, did I? I am quite used to dealing with massive Force surges, I am not going to lose my grip that easily.” Mostly thanks to Anakin, who had been able to summon massive Force energies right from the start of his apprenticeship, but had lacked the ability to control them for the first few years. Trying times. Obi-Wan had always been strong in the Force, but there had been a few close calls where Anakin’s Force presence had nearly overwhelmed him via their training bond. Compared to that, this brief stumble had been nothing.

Qui-Gon’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “I do not think you are aware of the risks you are taking—”

“Master Jinn, I may not have your rank, but I have been a knight for nearly ten years and I do know the consequences of immersing oneself too deep into the Force,” Obi-Wan said sharply, then sighed. “We do not have a choice right now anyway.”

Qui-Gon still seemed unhappy, but at least he finally dropped the topic. The lift came to a halt and Obi-Wan turned around to Arfour.

“Can you pull up the layout?” he asked the droid, who beeped in response and projected a 3D image of the compound structure into the air. A blinking point marked their current position, just a level above planet ground. Obi-Wan mentally overlaid the plan with the one he had made for himself when he had first snuck in here.

“Alright, the ship bay is here,” he pointed to a block at the south of the complex, “but we won’t make it past the security and it’ll probably be under lockdown anyway. So instead we’ll take this exit in the east.”

“You want to try to escape by foot?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Ah, no. I originally got here because I was following the bounty hunter who had been hired to kill the senator. He put his ship down in one of the rock formations two clicks away from that exit. Apparently didn’t trust Dooku enough to leave his own ship in his hands, which works to our advantage.”

“And he’s still on the planet?”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “The odds for it are in our favour, but I can’t say for sure. It’s our best chance at getting an operating vehicle though.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Let’s go then.”

This time Obi-Wan looked with the Force first before opening the lift doors. The hallway before them was littered with destroyed droids and a few dead Geonosians.

“What exactly happened here?” Qui-Gon asked as he surveyed the chaos, while Obi-Wan lifted one of the few still undamaged blasters from a droid.

“That was the distraction. The Geonosians and Dooku may be working together, but neither party seems to trust the other much, so I had Arfour overwrite the programming on a squad of battle droids and sent them out to attack the next few Geonosians they could find, then let it snowball from there.”

“Playing your enemies out against each other?” Qui-Gon said, sounding amused.

Obi-Wan grinned at him. “They make it so easy after all.”

They advanced further, taking a small detour to avoid what sounded like a firefight between the droids and the Geonosians. Of course their luck ran out at the exit.

“Destroyers? Really?” Obi-Wan whispered, frustrated. “This is just overcompensation.”

“Some might call it reasonable caution,” Qui-Gon interjected.

“Well, I do not appreciate reasonable caution unless it’s done by me,” Obi-Wan said.

“Do we take the stairs up or double back to one of the other exits?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Double back,” Obi-Wan said and they turned around just as a squad of droids rounded the corner.

“Stairs,” Qui-Gon said and they dashed up the flight, Arfour using his repulsors to keep up, blaster bolts riddling the hallway behind them. The stairs ended on what looked like a railing-less balcony. Probably a landing platform for the winged Geonosians. They were at least twenty metres above ground and behind them they could hear the clanking of the less agile but nonetheless fast approaching droids.

Making a split-second decision, Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon, who let out a startled yelp as he was lifted off his feet, which Obi-Wan would have mercilessly teased him for had the situation not been so critical. “Hold on,” Obi-Wan told him, and jumped. Using the Force, he prolonged their ascent past what would have been humanly possible, intent on making it far enough that they could take cover behind one of the stone formations. Which had the disadvantage that the moment they reached the peak they were falling from an even greater height.

“That’s not going to be a smooth landing,” Obi-Wan gritted out even as he used to Force to slow down their descent. Qui-Gon didn’t respond, but shifted in Obi-Wan’s grip, reversing their positions and wrapping his own body around Obi-Wan’s smaller one, which Obi-Wan would have hit him for hadn’t all his concentration been focussed on subverting gravity.

They hit the ground hard and even with Qui-Gon cushioning his fall, the impact and resulting pain knocked the wind from his lungs. Their velocity was high enough that they half-tumbled, half-skidded a few more metres before they finally came to a halt. Dimly he could hear the sound of Arfour’s repulsors as the droid landed.

His right side, which had been so unlucky as to take most of the impact, hurt terribly. It took him a moment of pain-addled thought-sorting before he remembered that that had also been the side he had injured when he had gotten captured.

“That was very reckless,” Qui-Gon said from behind him.

_Like you’re one to fucking talk, my dear master_ , Obi-Wan thought.

He hissed in pain when Qui-Gon untangled their limbs and brushed against his side in the process. Even without seeing he could practically feel Qui-Gon’s attention honing in on him. A hand brushed carefully over his torso and Obi-Wan’s face twisted when it reached the edges of the bruise. Moments later deft fingers were unbuttoning his tunic, pulling the black fabric aside.

“You could at least buy me a drink first,” Obi-Wan said, cracking one eye open.

“As soon as we find a more hospitable planet,” Qui-Gon said, not even looking at Obi-Wan as he examined the colourful bruising. Also, what? Obi-Wan was definitely filing that sentence away for later examination.

“It’s from when I was captured. I officially cannot recommend standing too close to an exploding Starfighter,” Obi-Wan said. “But my ribs are fine.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, none of them are broken at least,” Obi-Wan amended, buttoning up his tunic. Qui-Gon still seemed sceptical, but helped Obi-Wan to his feet when he held out a hand.

The ship was hidden under a ledge half a klick away from where their jump had carried them, its outside fitted with a chameleon cloak that imitated the surrounding rock’s colour and texture, which would have fooled any casual passers-by, unless they knew what to look for. With Arfour’s help they set upon the meticulous and time-expensive task of disabling the numerous security measures Fett had outfitted the ship with. Obi-Wan kept his Force sense extended as much as he dared, not eager to repeat the experience from the last time he had been working on a space ship in hostile territory.

It took them five nerve-wracking minutes until they were sure that they had disabled all mechanisms. At last, the ship’s ramp descended, giving away the view into the cockpit. They were just about to board, when a sharp spike in the Force made Obi-Wan halt in his tracks, one hand shooting out to grab hold of Qui-Gon’s arm to keep him from going any further. Arfour, who had been trailing behind bumped into Obi-Wan’s legs but he barely noticed as he tried to find the source of the unrest in the Force.

‘What is it?’ Qui-Gon mouthed silently, eyes flitting from Obi-Wan to the ship, searching for any sign of danger. Obi-Wan held up the other hand as sign for Qui-Gon to wait, then took a few long strides away from the ship until he stepped out from underneath the shadow of the ledge.

The sky was stained red. The sunlight was still passing through normally, but high above them hummed and flickered a translucent red wall of energy. Obi-Wan climbed upon one of the smaller nearby rock formations, turning around to in the dimensions take of the shield. It formed a dome with the nearest point of the wall less than three klicks away from their position, and the centre about one klick north. The shield emanated from a high spire, which undoubtedly housed the machinery and energy source for the shield generator. The whole situation reminded Obi-Wan uncomfortably of when he had been caged by shields just like these on Theed.

“Well, that’s not good,” said Qui-Gon who had climbed up the rock next to Obi-Wan.

“And here we were doing so well,” Obi-Wan said, running a hand over his beard.

“Their generator has a secondary shield,” Qui-Gon said, eyes trained on the spire, where a smaller, also red sphere enveloped the rock formation. “I don’t know what kind of artillery that ship has, but I doubt that it will be sufficient to break through that before we get shot down.”

“That secondary shield must be permeable for sentient beings. The generator can still be destroyed from the inside,” Obi-Wan mused. Yes, that could actually work out, if they moved fast enough, before their enemies could organize themselves.

Qui-Gon glanced at him sharply, as if somehow sensing the direction his plan was taking. “Oh no, if you’re going in there, you won’t be going alone.”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “Someone has to stay here and ready the ship. We will only have a very small window for the escape once the shield is down.”

“And there won’t be any escape when shutting down the generator fails,” Qui-Gon said, crossing his arms. “And that place will be heavily guarded.”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan shot back, refusing to rise to Qui-Gon’s attempt at riling him up by implying him to be unable to complete the task. “Even if you come with me, the moment we get engaged into a fight we lose. The approach of choice will be stealth, in which case getting one person past their lines will be a lot easier than two.”

Qui-Gon looked like he very much wanted to continue arguing, but knew himself that the best course of action would be to send the person with actual access to the Force, and only that person.

“The moment the shields are down I’ll fly the ship over,” he finally said.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said. “But if, for some reason, I should be unable to make it to the ship, you will leave without me.” Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a raised hand. “The Council needs to know what is happening here. This is too important to risk it all on some desperate rescue attempt that would most likely fail anyway if the situation would escalate in such a way. If this happens, fly to Naboo. My padawan is there on an assignment – Arfour can give you the coordinates – and it’ll be the fastest way for you to get into contact with the Council.” He dug out the data chip from within his robes. “And take this with you. Just in case.”

“Fine,” Qui-Gon bit out, grabbing the chip out of Obi-Wan’s hand. “Just—no unnecessary, self-sacrificing manoeuvres.”

“I should probably be insulted that you felt the need to say that,” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon looked like he was very much resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but there was somewhat of assuaged amusement on his face, even when they were both still very much aware that getting in and destroying the generator would be much more achievable than getting out afterwards. For a moment Obi-Wan felt his breath catch as he thought about how this could very well be the last time he saw Qui-Gon should things go awry beyond salvageable.

It wasn’t fair. He’d only just gotten him back, he didn’t want to have to let go of him now, not when there was so much left unsaid, left unlived.

It was that thought that made him step forward, arms reaching out to envelop Qui-Gon in a tight hug. Qui-Gon stiffened under his embrace, but out of surprise only. Obi-Wan had to stand on his toes to reach up enough to rest his head against Qui-Gon’s shoulder, face half-buried into the other man’s tunic, breathing in his scent, feeling the warm skin and shifting muscles through the tunic, the very faint thump of his heart, all the signs that his master really was alive and just a further reminder that he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Before Qui-Gon could get his bearings enough together to freak out about being hugged by a total stranger, Obi-Wan forced himself to step away, reducing their contact to one hand on Qui-Gon’s upper arm.

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan said, inwardly glad to hear that his voice wasn’t wavering.

Something in Qui-Gon’s eyes softened as his mouth formed a small smile. He mirrored Obi-Wan’s gesture, one of his hands clasping Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “And with you,” he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Up close, the spire was swarming with Geonosians like a disturbed wasp nest, several patrols guarding the entrances. It didn’t help that a few of them had taken to surveying the area from above, making for a few cuts too close for comfort even while Obi-Wan still had the advantage of ducking into the shadow of the rock formations. The ground around the spire had been completely levelled in a hundred foot radius, leaving no possible cover. There were several smaller entrances and one main entrance carved into the spire, but even with using Force-augmentation he wouldn’t make it all the way to one of them without getting shot by the guards.

Using the Force, he targeted a small rubble of rocks lying just on the outside parameter of the circle less than thirty feet away from him, giving it a strong enough push that had a few stones toppling down the pile. The Geonosians that had been patrolling the perimeter all whirled around at the sound, focusing on its source. Obi-Wan turned his attention to the one standing the furthest away, who was guarding one of the small side entrances. Force shoves across larger distances were tricky, but at least the Geonosians were very light-weight due to their flight-ability, which meant that his weak attempt at one was enough to push the Geonosian off of his feet and sent him sprawling into the sand.

The Geonosians erupted into their voice equivalent of shouting, the bulk of them immediately storming toward the fallen guard and the entrance doors behind him. Obi-Wan used the moment of chaos and confusion to sprint towards the main entrance, using the Force to push his speed past human limits.

The noise from the outside faded when he stepped into the stone spire. Darkness swallowing his form, not that there was much of an advantage when the Geonosians had twilight vision. Inside the spire was as much a maze as the one that had been atop of his prison for the last few days, stone interspersed with winding tunnels that diverted and converted from each other. The inner architecture had obviously not been built with human limitations in mind as most of the tunnels were high enough up that he had to use the Force to grab onto the ledges. He didn’t know where the generator was, but tactical sense would demand that such crucial technology would be as far beneath ground as was possible while still being able to maintain the shield. At least the funnel for the shield emitter was easy to identify once he had climbed his way far enough into the tunnels, hard as it was to miss the metal core of the spire, seeing as it reached sky-high and was two metres in diameter. He used the support vents that had been cut into the stone to climb downwards, which should lead him to the generator by default. After a while the whirring of machinery grew louder, overlaid by the clicking sounds of Geonosian voices. The vent ended with a metal grate, through which Obi-Wan could look down into what seemed to be a dome-like room with a height of at least ten metres. Geonosians were walking and hovering through the room, at which’s centre a half-sphere had been embedded into the floor. From its middle erupted a thick, bright red beam, shooting straight up into the funnel Obi-Wan had been climbing alongside. This close to the funnel’s opening the energy made the air crackle with static.

Concentrating with the Force, he unscrewed the bolts that were holding the grate in place, carefully lifting it out of its place. He took a deep breath and then dropped through the opening, letting himself fall freely. The shield beam flew past less than a hand span away from his face, a few stray hairs burning to crisps as they came too close. Using the Force to protect his body from the impact he crashed feet first into the side of the sphere that held the generator, the combination of his own weight and the planet’s gravity putting a lot of strength into the kick. Metal groaned as holders snapped, dispatching the sphere from its scaffold as it tilted dangerously to the side. Obi-Wan dove to the side as the sphere dislodged, falling towards its damaged side, the energy beam going sideways with it, tearing through the funnel and the ceiling, cutting through massive durasteel and stone like butter. The sounds of destruction drowned out the high-pitched shrieks from the Geonosians, but he paid mind to neither, instead jumping upwards, using one of the flying Geonosians as stepping stone to reach the funnels entrance and proceeded to climb upwards, leaping from side to opposing side, doing his best to keep up his speed and prevent gravity from catching up with him, letting the velocity carry him. It wouldn’t take long until the Geonosians below would get their collective wits back together and take up pursuit. With this tempo, the climb upwards was much shorter than it had been downwards and soon enough he was hurling himself out of the funnel. He had hoped that the top of the spire would form at least some kind of platform, but unfortunately it sharpened too drastically to leave any sort of room for standing at the top, causing Obi-Wan to scrabble for purchase on its outer wall, scratching open his hands as he dug them into any crevices he could find in the rough stone. Underneath his fingers, the spire was shaking, but for the moment the structural damage didn’t seem to be enough to cause it to collapse. Above him, the shield was disintegrating now that its energy source had been destroyed, blue sky once again appearing from behind the red.

 _Complete success_ , Obi-Wan thought even as another violent tremor rocked the spire. _That was incredibly reckless,_ was his next delighted thought and he couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement as he thought about how he would have lectured Anakin should he have pulled a stunt like this. Probably for the best that his padawan wasn’t around to witness his master setting bad examples.

If it had been up to him he would have stayed right where he was until Qui-Gon hopefully came around to pick him up, but his current position wasn’t only opportune to jump on flying-by spaceships, but also to make excellent target practice for any Geonosians flying by. Once again he started to climb back down, ignoring the stinging from his hands as the sharp edges from the stone cut through his skin.

Of course his luck didn’t last very long. The distant buzzing of wings and a small tug from the Force were all the warning he had to turn himself to the side, only hanging on with one hand, narrowly avoiding being hit by the blaster bolt the Geonosian had shot. With his back now to the stone, he could see the insectoid lining up for another shot and he let go at the last moment, dropping down as the bolt hit the spot where he had just been dangling. He barely managed to grab on for purchase again, his attempt to draw his own blaster from where he had stuffed it into his belt thwarted as he needed both of his hands to keep himself from falling. Deciding to change tactics he drew up his feet, setting them flat against the stone, and then pushed, launching himself at his enemy. The Geonosian had obviously not anticipated this turn of events and was too slow to dodge. Obi-Wan latched onto it, fingers gripping into the gaps in the chitin armour and holding onto the arm with the blaster. Their combined weight was too much to keep them hovering and they descended rapidly, the frantic buzzing from the Geonosian’s wings the only thing stopping them from dropping straight out of the sky. His means of transport did its best to get rid of him, using its free hand to swipe at Obi-Wan, sharp claws dragging over his left cheek even as he twisted out of the way, leaving three parallel, freely bleeding cuts. Using the momentum of his evasive manoeuvre he swung them around until the Geonosian was underneath him and most importantly, between him and the quickly approaching stone ground.

Even with their descent slowed by the Geonosian’s wings they still hit the ground hard, the Geonosian’s exoskeleton making a cracking and squelching noise that couldn’t have been very healthy. Obi-Wan’s fall was at least somewhat softened by the Geonosian under him but the pain that bloomed across his torso told him that he and hard surfaces really needed to stop meeting this way. Unsteadily, he stood up, looking down onto the Geonosian. It didn’t look like it was going to get up any time soon, but just to be on the safe side Obi-Wan kicked its blaster away and over the edge of the platform they had landed on.

He quickly assessed his surroundings – he was standing in the middle of a platform that appeared to be some sort of open hangar. It was about ten metres wide and fifty metres long, with a third of the length extending into the spire and several small fighters standing under the ledge. Obi-Wan briefly considered if it would be worth the time to try and hotwire one of the fighters, when he heard the sound of ship thrusters.

At the edge of the platform Fett’s ship rose up, hovering low enough to only narrowly avoid scraping the ground.  Obi-Wan took off running towards it, ignoring the protests from his overtaxed body.

He didn’t even make it halfway to the ship when the Force shrieked in warning, nearly causing him to stumble. Catching his equilibrium, he spun around, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

A massive wave of Force energy swept over him, intense enough that it felt like the air itself had thickened. He braced himself only to realize that the target hadn’t been him but the hovering ship, which now lurched forward with the Force pull, coming dangerously close to smashing into the stone platform.

Frantically, Obi-Wan delved into the Force, reaching out towards the tendrils of foreign Force energy that lanced through the air, cutting through them with a shield of his own making, forming a wall in front of him, gritting his teeth when the severed Force tendrils lashed against it like crashing waves.

He refocused a part of his awareness back to the outside, eyes flitting in the direction the attack was coming from, the entrance of the hangar into the spire. A singular form strode out from the shadow of the ledge. _Dooku_ , Obi-Wan thought, recognizing the man both by physical and by Force sight.

The tightly controlled power he had sensed from the former Jedi master earlier was no longer hidden behind mental shields, but crackled freely around him in a cloud of black and even from this far Obi-Wan could clearly feel the cold fury that laced through it.

Dooku’s eyes fixed on him and the Count stretched out one hand, palm open. The wave of Force energy slammed into Obi-Wan’s shield hard enough to push him backwards, his feet skidding over the ground as he leaned forward to keep himself from falling. Hastily he gathered his own Force energy around himself and thrust out his palm in a mirror to Dooku’s gesture, pushing back.

Their attacks met in the middle, smashing against each other like invisible giants, causing strong winds to whip over the platform, sweeping up dust.

This deep in the Force, time seemed to almost come to a standstill, milliseconds stretching into what felt like minutes, the grains of sand that had moved so quickly previously now falling gently like thick snow.

Around him the Force sang as he channelled its power, a chorus of warmth and power, whispering along in synchrony with his determination as it billowed around him like a cloak of light. Just in this moment he was the Force, and the Force was him, every cell in his body humming with its energy. Before him the two energies crashed and clashed against each other, roaring like a fire storm, neither able to gain the upper hand yet.

Diving this deep in the Force was dangerous and even with its support he could feel his last energy reserves evaporating like water under the Tatooine suns. For now he was holding his own, but in the end Dooku would inevitably win, if only because of his higher endurance.

This deeply entrenched in the Force he didn’t need to turn around to see the ship behind him as it righted itself once again, free from the Force pull.

 _Guess I won’t make it off this damned rock after all_ , Obi-Wan thought. Even with his means of escape this close he had no chance of actually reaching it – he couldn’t even look away from where he was concentrating his Force energy, let alone divert enough attention to move his body. Stretching out his mind’s eye he reached into the ship, feeling Arfour’s muted, mechanical presence and next to him Qui-Gon, blazing in the Force like a beacon.

Regret flowed through Obi-Wan, knowing that even though he had just found Qui-Gon again he wouldn’t be properly reunited with him after all. With a deep breath he let go of the thought. Qui-Gon and Arfour could still make it off this planet. They could get the information about Dooku’s machinations to the Council and hopefully prevent the enormous loss of life his plans would bring.

And Qui-Gon would live.

A deep sense of peace filled him, the Force surrounding him with warmth as his mind settled, grief for what could have been replaced with faith in the future.

 _Go_ , he sent to Qui-Gon through the Force, trying his best to soothe the turmoil of sadness, distress and the feeling of helplessness he could feel emitting from the other man. He knew that in the end, his former master would always do what was right even when it came at such a price, but he still breathed a sigh of relief when the ship lifted off, accelerating and disappearing into the sky and away from this hostile planet. His heart ached at the thought that once Qui-Gon learned who Mehran Leht really was, those feelings would return tenfold, but there was nothing he could do to lessen that pain. At least Qui-Gon would still be alive. He could finish Anakin’s training, just as it had been meant to happen and succeed in the many instances where Obi-Wan had failed to properly teach his padawan.

Under Dooku’s continued onslaught his shield began to crack and mere moments after the ship had passed through the atmosphere Obi-Wan’s control shattered. The whole power of Dooku’s attack swept over the platform, ripping Obi-Wan off his feet and throwing him through the air as if he weighed nothing more than a leaf. He collided hard with the floor, skidding and coming to halt lying on his side, trying to catch his breath again. _At least try to get up again_ , he told himself, but his head was still spinning from the hit he had taken and he simply didn’t have the energy left to do even as much as sitting up.

Through his blurred vision he could see Dooku’s dark form coming closer. He tried to prop himself up on his arms, only to feel an invisible hand grip his throat, lifting him off the ground, high enough that his feet couldn’t touch the floor anymore. The grip tightened, making him gasp and his hands reach for his throat in the vain attempt of trying to pry off the Force tendril. The corners of his vision started to turn dark and his body instinctively struggled against the hold in an effort that his mind knew to be futile, lungs burning with the need for air.

Before him Dooku came to a halt, the cold fury Obi-Wan had felt in his Force signature now even stronger than before, twisting his features as he strengthened the chokehold around Obi-Wan’s throat.

Just when he thought that he was finally going to lose consciousness – and probably his life – the hold disappeared, dropping him, his legs promptly giving out underneath him as they capitulated before the task of suddenly having to carry his weight, leaving him lying at Dooku’s feet as he gasped for breath.

He was distantly aware of Dooku crouching down next to him and then a hand gripped his hair, pulling his head up until he was looking Dooku in the eyes.

“I will make you pay for this,” Dooku said very softly. “For your insolence. For daring to take _him_ away from me. And the punishment I will inflict on you will make you wish for death.”

He let go of Obi-Wan and stood up, looking down at him for a moment before spreading out his hands above him.

Lightning crackled from his fingertips and pain like he had never felt it before hit Obi-Wan, his vision whitening out. Electricity danced over his skin, making his body convulse, arching off the ground as he tried to get away from the agony, but there was nowhere to go; no way to protect himself. Distantly he could hear himself screaming, pain overwriting all intelligible thought until it was the only thing left.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, leaving him panting, his body trembling and quivering with the aftershocks.

 _Sith lightning_ , he realized, the thought the only thing strong enough to get through the haze surrounding his mind. _Dooku didn’t just Fall, he became a Sith, oh Force, how could we all have been so blind-_

Above him lightning crackled again and his world dissolved into agony that didn’t allow for any other thought beside it.


	6. Chapter 6

The ship dropped out of hyperspace and through the curving light, Naboo came into view. Qui-Gon leaned back in his seat, looking down at the vibrant blue green planet. The irony of coming back to this planet, so soon after his near-death and under less than favourable circumstances once again, didn’t escape him. It had been nearly six hours since he had left Geonosis behind but inner peace continued to elude him. He had thought that after being kept prisoner for two tendays that he had come to terms with his former master’s Fall, but seeing it actively take form had still shaken him. Of course, before Naboo he hadn’t spoken with the other man for what must have been over two years, but the reality that Dooku had changed that much was hard to grasp. There was hardly anything of him left that Qui-Gon could still recognize at this point.

And then there was the matter of Knight Mehran. His help had been a Force-sent gift, even though the other man appeared to have the stubbornness of a mule. In hindsight, he was surprised that he had never met him before – of course, the Jedi Order was enormous, but the strength the other man had wielded had been something that surely would have garnered attention from fellow masters and knights. And he hadn’t been hard on the eyes either. In any case, for him to be able to hold his own against Dooku, even if he had lost in the end – Qui-Gon knew that he himself wouldn’t emerge victorious if it came to a measure in brute Force strength between him and his former master. Even from inside the ship, with his Force sense all but dead, he had been able to feel the tremors of the two Force energies clashing against each other.

He wondered if the knight was still alive.

Even though he had only known him a short time, the thought that he might already be long dead made grief settle heavy in his chest. The other man had been kind and brave – a light in the Force that shouldn’t be extinguished so long before its time.

Banishing the thoughts into the back of his mind, he focussed back on the controls now that the ship was starting to enter the atmosphere. Beside his seat Arfour was plugging in the rest of the navigational directions. Qui-Gon had never spent much thought on the consciousness of droids – their lack of presence in the living Force made it hard to not see them as mere metal contraptions – but the droid had been, for lack of better word, sad for the entirety of the trip, standing still and silent in one of the ship’s corners except for when he had entered the coordinates for Naboo into the nav comp. Even if Qui-Gon had been more gifted in the communication with droids, there wouldn’t have been anything he could have said to alleviate the droid’s mood – after all, its master was most likely dead. Of course, having another miserable travelling companion present, even if it was only a mechanical one, hadn’t exactly done wonders on Qui-Gon’s own mood. So he felt relief as they closed in on their target coordinates. He had done more than enough wallowing inside this Force-forsaken spaceship.

Their goal turned out to be a lavish mansion which looked big enough to house a small clan. It could have been a poster for one of those expensive vacation advertisements crossing the holo boards on Coruscant, except for the subtly and not-so-subtly hidden guards, holo cams, and motion sensors.

Before the ship had touched down, guards had already gathered in a half-circle around the landing platform. The moment Qui-Gon opened the ship doors he found himself with a dozen blasters aimed at his chest, the guards not breaking their stance even when he put his hands up to convey that he wasn’t carrying any weapons.

“Don’t move!” one of the guards shouted when he reached the end of the ramp. Obediently, Qui-Gon stopped, keeping his posture relaxed. “This is private ground. We ask you to leave immediately or we will resort to using force.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that. It is of utmost importance that I speak with the Jedi who has been stationed here.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, seeming somewhat taken aback by his words even when they did a good job of hiding it. The Jedi protection detail must have been highly classified then – that explained the remote location at least.

“Who are you, and how did you get that information?” the same guard shouted back.

“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and I am a Jedi master myself,” Qui-Gon answered.

The head guard hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a comm unit, keyed in a code and started to talk very quietly but rapidly into the receiver. With help from the Force it would have been easy to sharpen his senses enough to hear what was spoken, but in this situation he couldn’t do anything but wait while stewing in silent frustration at the senseless delay.

Finally the guard pocketed the comm unit again and gestured for her men to lower their weapons.

“Come with me,” she said, and Qui-Gon fell into step beside her. Three of the guards followed behind them as the rest returned to their positions.

The inside of the mansion was made up of high-reaching rooms with tall windows that filled everything with natural light and were probably a nightmare for the security forces. Even though the high quality of the furniture and décor made it clear that the owner of the house must have had access to a lot of money, the house was devoid of the excessive and stifling opulence Qui-Gon had been exposed to on several diplomatic missions.

They stopped in front of a double door, the guard knocking against the wood. A ‘yes’ came from the inside and the guard pushed open the door, but remained standing beside it, motioning for Qui-Gon to step through.

A man stood in the middle of the room, dressed in dark Jedi robes, his padawan braid reaching to his chest. One hand was resting lightly on the hilt of the lightsabre that hung from his belt. If that hadn’t been enough of a clue about the man’s attitude towards him, the virtually thunderous expression on his face certainly was. It certainly seemed excessive to be on the receiving end of so much open hostility coming from a fellow Jedi, even if said Jedi was here on a protective mission.

“Who are you?” the man asked, speaking as if Qui-Gon had somehow personally offended him with his mere presence. He supposed that he should be glad that talking was at least still on the table.

“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn and I-“

“Qui-Gon Jinn is dead,” the man interrupted him, his grip on his lightsabre tightening. “Try again.”

“I can assure you that I am in fact-“, Qui-Gon started, only to be interrupted once again, this time by Arfour who barrelled past him to position himself between the Jedi master and the padawan.

“Arfour?” the other man said, surprise evident on his face. “What are you doing here, where is-“

The droid drowned out the rest of what the man said with a flurry of beeps and whistles, which were utterly incomprehensible for Qui-Gon, though the padawan seemed able to understand it just fine and was listening intently. The Jedi master privately vowed to himself that he’d finally start investing time into learning binary just as Obi-Wan had been pressing him to do, should he ever make it back to the Temple.

After several minutes of what must have been the droid relaying the entirety of their prison break it finally stopped, leaving the padawan standing with a slightly overwhelmed look on his face.

“I’ll have to contact the Council,” he finally said. “You just… stay here for now. Arfour, keep an eye on him.”

Arfour whistled indignantly, undoubtedly expressing the same sentiment Qui-Gon was too polite to let show.

“Oh, and I’ll need a blood sample from you,” the man added, ignoring the little droid’s resentment. “I’ll just…” he started patting his utility belt before realizing that he wasn’t carrying the necessary equipment. “I’ll send someone to get one, just, don’t go anywhere,” he said, and left.

In Qui-Gon’s opinion, he had done more than enough of not leaving rooms he had been assigned to in the past days, but in his delicate situation he didn’t want to try and tempt fate. That, or any trigger-happy guards or Jedi.

The same head guard he had already met earlier came into the room a minute later, brandishing a small sampler which she stuck into bend of his elbow, then left with her prize and without any further words. Then there was nothing left to do but wait. Jedi had a great deal of patience, but the events of the past day had made him restless enough that it was wearing thin by the minute. How long could it take for one padawan to establish a communication line to Coruscant anyway? He understood that the whole believed to be dead thing might be somewhat of an issue, but it wouldn’t be the first time that a Jedi turned up alive a few months after being declared KIA.

Finally the padawan reappeared in the doorway and motioned for Qui-Gon to follow him. He seemed even more tense than before, body coiled with it like a spring even when his face gave none of it away. They entered a secluded room which continued an entire array of communication equipment. On the centre platform stood the translucent downscaled holograms of Mace Windu and Yoda. While Yoda had an excellent poker face as always, Mace looked visibly taken aback before he schooled his expression into a neutral one once more.

“Masters,” Qui-Gon greeted them, giving the customary bow.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said. “To see you alive, good it is.”

“I’d like to think so too,” Qui-Gon said with barely hidden amusement. “I take it that the blood results came back positive then?”

“That they did,” Yoda answered. “Remain however, many open questions do.”

“We want you to tell us what happened between your fight with the Sith and now,” Mace said.

And Qui-Gon wanted to have answers to some of his own open questions, but the Council didn’t work that way – they gathered the information and then carefully chose what to redistribute. _Patience_ , he thought, once again missing the calming presence of the Force.

So he started recounting all he remembered – waking up on Geonosis with his wound from the fight healed, but kept as a prisoner. His encounter with Knight Mehran, their prison break, all the things the knight had said about Dooku and his plans, how they stole the ship, Mehran’s fight with Dooku and how he had to leave him behind.

When he was finished, Yoda and Mace exchanged glances before turning back to look at Qui-Gon and the padawan.

“Most troubling, this news is,” Yoda said after a moment. “Discuss this with the rest of the Council we will immediately. Stopped, Dooku must be.”

“Why, exactly, were you so adamant that I am dead? What happened on Naboo after the fight with the Sith?”

“The fact that we burned your corpse on a pyre, for one,” Mace answered after a beat.

“…oh,” Qui-Gon said, eyebrows drawing up in surprise. “But… how is that possible?”

“Tricked, we must have been,” Yoda said. “By Dooku, I suspect.”

Qui-Gon winced at the additional reminder of his fallen master. Faking his death certainly would have made keeping him prisoner easier. No one came looking for a dead man after all. But…

“There is something else you are not telling me,” Qui-Gon said, crossing his arms before his chest. Yoda’s face gave nothing away, but Mace at least had the decency to look a bit guilty. They glanced at each other in silent communication once more, a gesture that was really starting to get on Qui-Gon’s nerves. Even when he wasn’t talking with droids he still had no idea what was being spoken of in between the lines.

At last they looked back through the holo, Mace uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other. A heavy feeling of foreboding started to settle in Qui-Gon’s chest. His friend had never been one to shy from saying whatever needed saying out loud, no matter how uncomfortable the topic or how harsh the truth. Seeing him hesitate like this didn’t bode well.

“Qui-Gon,” he finally said, “how long do you think you’ve been… gone?”

Oh Force. “Four months?” he said, knowing even as he said it that he was wrong.

“Ten years,” Mace said with an uncharacteristic gentleness, and for a moment Qui-Gon forgot how to breathe, his legs threatening to give out under him.

“Ten years!?” he repeated, disbelievingly. “But that… it can’t be.” Ten years? It felt like little more than a few tendays since the day they had first arrived on Naboo. Surely he would have noticed if so much time had passed… but then, he hadn’t exactly had any clues left for him in his cell. And without the Force there wouldn’t have been any way to tell.

Before straight-out denial could take hold, his Jedi training kicked in, locking up the approaching panic behind doors only to be opened once he was alone again. _Focus on the moment_ , he reminded himself, just as he had told Obi-Wan so many times.

“What about Obi-Wan?” he finally asked, choosing to divert his mind from his own problems back to one he had been pondering about for the long days of boredom he had lived through.

In the hologram, Mace winced, and Qui-Gon’s heart sank. A hesitant pause stretched on during which Mace seemed to grabble for words, and the panic and denial Qui-Gon had locked up so tightly before returned with all their might.

“Is he dead?” he croaked, his voice nearly giving out at the thought that Obi-Wan wasn’t… that he had joined the Force.

“What? No, no he isn’t,” Mace said hastily and a heavy weight lifted off of Qui-Gon’s chest.

“Then what is it?” Qui-Gon asked impatiently, having had more than enough of getting the emotional equivalent to whiplash.

“Met Knight Kenobi, you already have,” Yoda finally said.

Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed, his mouth opening to demand that Yoda stop speaking in convoluted metaphors, until he realized the implications of what had been said. Even as he initially balked at the words, in his mind he could all too clearly see short brown hair taking the colour of rust as it grew longer, brightened by the sun, a face losing the last bit of softness with age, bringing out the high cheekbones, the beard obscuring the characteristic cleft in the chin. And yet so much that stayed the same; the blue-green eyes, the wicked grin, the soft voice with the sharp tongue. He had been aware that the man had seemed somewhat familiar, but had dismissed it as having seen him at the Temple sometime before.   _How could I have been so blind?_

“Why didn’t he say anything?” he said desperately, more to himself than anyone else.

Yoda’s gimer stick rapped on the ground. “Believed him, would you have, hmm?”

No, he wouldn’t have, and he knew it. He could hardly believe it now, away from Dooku’s prison and with the truth told by people he trusted. _Oh Obi-Wan…_ , he thought.

“Hmm. Need to discuss further actions, the council does. Need time for yourself, you do,” Yoda said. “Call you again when decided on what we will do, we shall. If more questions you have, answer them Padawan Skywalker can.”

The hologram winked out.

“Padawan Skywalker?” he asked as he turned around to face the young man, whose face seemed to be caught in between a grimace and a smile.

“Master Qui-Gon,” he responded with an awkward little hand wave. Under Qui-Gon’s incredulous stare he shifted from one foot to the other. “I… I should check on the senator. Your arrival’s stirred things up a lot and… you could probably use a moment to yourself anyway.”

Qui-Gon nodded and waited until Anakin had left the room, then collapsed into the nearest chair, dragging a hand over his face as he tried to get his bearings together. For a few minutes he didn’t do anything more than try to breathe in and out in normal intervals. The feeling of being overwhelmed abated slowly, but just because his head was a bit clearer did not mean that he would be able to immediately come to terms with everything that had happened to him. That would be enough material to keep his meditations filled for the next few weeks, if not months.

Too restless for any actual meditation, he left the room, wandering around the hallways until he found a guard who pointed him in the direction of his grand-padawan. And wasn’t that odd, to know that he suddenly had a grand-padawan, especially one who had to already be approaching his Knighting.

He found Anakin on one of the balconies overlooking the lake, deep in conversation with a woman clad into robes made after traditional Nubian fashion. In the distance he could see the sun setting over the water, bathing everything in warm hues of red and orange. The two people turned towards him as he approached, Anakin taking a small step away from where he had been standing rather close to the woman, an interesting tidbit of information that Qui-Gon filed away for later.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Anakin said. “Has there been news from the Council yet?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I am afraid not.”

Anakin scowled, the lack of news doing nothing to calm the agitation present in every line of his body. Qui-Gon sighed inwardly. He couldn’t fault the boy, but his behaviour was completely unhelpful in regards to Qui-Gon’s own anxiety.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet,” he said, turning towards the woman in an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts.

“Actually, we have been, Master Jinn,” the woman said with a quiet chuckle. “Although considering the circumstances, I am not surprised that you did not recognize me.”

The woman didn’t look older than early twenty, which meant that when Qui-Gon had met her she must have been a young adolescent.

“Queen Amidala?” he asked, seeing as it was the only person he could possible think of who fit both the age and the world of origin.

Amidala smiled at him. “My regency period has been over for quite some time – Senator is now the correct title.”

“Well, you’ve grown,” Qui-Gon said, for lack of better words.

“So I am told,” Amidala said, looking like she was trying not to laugh. With the way Anakin’s ears reddened Qui-Gon suspected he wasn’t the only one the jab was directed at.

“Master Jinn,” Amidala began, her mood sobering. “How long do you think it will take until word gets back from the Jedi Council?”

Qui-Gon inclined his head. “It’s hard to say. They will need to convene a full session, which in itself will take some time, and I am not up to date with the current political climate, so it could take anywhere from two to six hours.”

If Amidala looked troubled, Anakin looked downright thunderous.

“And it will take them at least twelve hours to get from Coruscant to Geonosis,” Amidala mused quietly. There was honest worry on her face that surprised Qui-Gon.

“That’s fourteen hours at best!” Anakin cried out. “Obi-Wan might not have that much time!”

“It has been already seven hours since I’ve left Geonosis,” Qui-Gon said. “As Obi-Wan has not died yet, I think we can hazard that Dooku does not plan to kill him, which does leave us with some time to act.” He did not talk about all the things Dooku could be doing to Obi-Wan without killing him, but from the looks on Anakin and Amidala’s faces he wasn’t fooling either of them.

“Fuck this,” Anakin growled. “We shouldn’t have to wait for the Council to make up their minds. I’ll take a ship and fly to Geonosis myself. Master Qui-Gon can protect you in my stead, Padmé.”

Amidala crossed her arms. “Obi-Wan is my friend too, Anakin,” she said, her eyes blazing. “I certainly won’t sit back and do nothing while you fly off without so much as a plan. I’ll come with you.”

“Neither of you will be going to Geonosis,” Qui-Gon interjected.

“Master Jinn,” Amidala all but hissed. “I am perfectly capable of handling a blaster well enough to protect myself. If you would like, we can go outside and I can demonstrate with you as target.”

“I-,” Qui-Gon started, momentarily taken aback by the Senator’s fighting spirit. “That’s not the point. I do not doubt your combat capabilities.”

“Then what is it?” Amidala asked before he could continue. Anakin had shifted ever so slightly to her side, a mirroring scowl on his face. Qui-Gon could already feel a headache building behind his temple.

“What I am saying, if you would stop interrupting me, is that none of us can go to Geonosis because it would be suicide,” Qui-Gon said.

Both Amidala and Anakin opened their mouths to argue, but Qui-Gon had learned from the past few minutes and beat them to it. “The facility we would be invading is a weapons manufactory, outfitted with its own protective shield and air defence systems. They would detect us as soon as we breach orbit and either shoot us down or capture us while we’re still in air, and then they would have four hostages instead of just one. And even if we could, by some miracle, manage to get on ground, there would be an army of both Geonosian soldiers and battle droids waiting for us. Not to mention Dooku, and none of us are powerful enough to beat him in combat. So unless you have a stealth ship lying around somewhere that is advanced enough to fool the Geonosian systems, Senator, there is simply no way we can pull off a successful rescue.”

For a moment Amidala puffed up and Qui-Gon feared that their argument would devolve into a shouting match, but then she deflated.

“I concede your point, Master Jinn,” she said, looking beat down.

“Please believe me when I say that I don’t like this any more than you do. But a rescue attempt would be the opposite of helpful in this situation,” Qui-Gon said, feeling very tired.

An awkward silence descended over the room where none of them really seemed to know what to say.

“I’ll go and look after Arfour,” Anakin finally mumbled, leaving the room without a further word.

“He just needs something to do with his hands,” Amidala said, noticing Qui-Gon worriedly looking after the padawan. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. And if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you could use a bath and a set of new clothes.”

Qui-Gon looked down at himself, only now really noticing the red dirt of Geonosis that was still clinging to him. “Yes, that would be a good idea.”

Amidala sighed. “I’ll show you to a room and send someone to try and find something that will fit you.”

She walked ahead and Qui-Gon followed, only sparing a last glance out over the balcony where the sun had disappeared on the horizon, leaving the sky in darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've already mentioned the violence/torture in the tags, but I still wanted to issue a warning for very graphic descriptions of violence/torture before this chapter (sorry to disappoint anyone who got their hopes up, but the M rating is not because of sex).

Obi-Wan woke feeling like someone had fried every nerve ending in his body. From what he recalled, that assessment wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He had lost count of how many times Dooku had electrocuted him before he had passed out from the sheer pain of it, but his body still ached from the experience.

His new cell finally looked like one, complete with the bare stone walls and iron chains with cuffs locked over his wrists, keeping him suspended just high enough that his feet could reach the ground, taking some of the strain off from his arms, which must have been carrying his weight while he had been unconscious. The blasted force collar was back in place too. He supposed it was somewhat a relief to know that they were finally past playing games, but then, this also meant that no attempts of civility stood in the way of torture. As if the ‘getting hit by Sith lightning’ part hadn’t been enough of an indicator.

 _A fucking Sith_. A Fallen Jedi was one thing, but becoming a Sith meant reaching a whole new level of darkness. And for Dooku to be able to use Sith Lightning implied that he had to have been an apprentice for years now. The worst part was that there was no way to let anyone share his knowledge. Qui-Gon was gone – and bless the Force for that – and with him, his only way of getting anything to the Council. They would know that Dooku had fallen at least – his attempt on Senator Amidala’s life would be more than enough to cement that – but him being a Sith was a wholly new, and much more dangerous development, especially since it implied that the Sith themselves had their hands in the formation of the Separatists and the conflict that was currently tearing Intergalactic relations apart.

The door to his cell opened and Dooku himself strode in, looking every inch the former Jedi master and self-proclaimed benevolent count he had impersonated just days before.  Somehow Obi-Wan had expected his new found knowledge to make a change in his perception but even now that he knew, he couldn’t find any outward sign on Dooku that he had become a Sith. Not even the infamous yellow eyes were present. The Sith he had battled on Naboo had been oozing darkness in a stifling miasma, palpable even without a Force sense. He had felt something like that when he had clashed with Dooku earlier, but now it was all gone, wrapped up and hidden away as if it had never been there.

“Traitor,” Obi-Wan said in lieu of a greeting.

“I suppose I could accuse you of the same thing,” Dooku said, circling around Obi-Wan. “This all would have been so much easier if you had just kept to our little agreement.”

“Is this the part where I pretend to be sorry for my actions?”

“Oh, I do intend to make you feel sorry,” Dooku said, his voice low as he came around from Obi-Wan’s other side. “Or rather, the Geonosians will after what you’ve done to their soldiers and their defence system.”

“Glad to know you won’t have to get your hands dirty,” Obi-Wan responded.

“Quite. They did want to have you publicly executed first you know – one of those arena fights to the death they seem so fond of – but I was able to make them substitute that punishment with torture. You might be relieved to know that they won’t cause any permanent disfigurations, though the Geonosians do have enough knowledge about causing pain that such a limitation won’t hold them back much.”

“Why the generous consideration?” Obi-Wan asked. “Here I thought I had been successful in establishing myself as stubborn nuisance.”

“Ah, yes,” Dooku said, “stubborn, persistent and resilient. Annoying qualities for an enemy, but all the more valuable to have in an ally.”

“Ally?” Obi-Wan laughed out loud. “You are still caught up on that? And here I thought you just wanted me to have a painful death.”

“Oh, I did. I was tempted to simply electrocute you until your heart stopped,” Dooku said, laying one finger against Obi-Wan’s chest. “But what a waste that would have been when you could be of so much use to me alive.”

“I won’t join you, Dooku,” Obi-Wan said calmly.

“Yes, I knew you’d say that. But if you don’t want to bend, you’ll just have to be broken to my will.”

Dooku finally took a step back, taking a moment to muster Obi-Wan quietly. “I shall leave you to the tender mercies of the Geonosians then. Just one final thing…” Force tendrils curled around the lower half of both of Obi-Wan’s legs and he had only one moment of panicked realization before they struck.

The tibiae and fibulas broke with a loud crack, the sound drowned out by Obi-Wan’s own sharp cry of pain. The chains that had been holding up his arms suddenly gave way just when his legs folded under him, sending him to his knees, the heavy impact rattling at the fresh breaks, making him groan. Pain pulsed in waves through his lower body, causing his breath to come in short, laboured gasps as he tried not to drown in them.

“Merely a pre-emptivemeasure against any more possible escape attempts,” he could hear Dooku say over the roaring in his ears. “I’ve heard it’s quite hard to run on two broken legs after all.”

Blinking through the haze of pain he saw Dooku looking down at him with quiet satisfaction before he disappeared from the room, his figure replaced by two Geonosians.

The door fell shut with a dull, heavy sound. He could hear the Geonosians converse with the harsh-sounding clicks of their language. They stepped closer into his space, and then their claws ripped what was left of his robe to shreds, leaving his torso bare and littered with scratches where they had cut deep enough to tear into the skin lying under the fabric.

Both of them moved to stand behind him. He tried to follow their movements, but a warning pressure of a foot against one of his legs was enough to make him wrench his head forward once more as he choked back a cry. From out of his field of vision he could hear the quiet whisper of something sliding over the floor, which abruptly turned into a sharp singing sound in the air before hot white pain exploded on his back.

He let out a grunt, arms straining against the chain as his body instinctively tried to turn away from the pain, even when his mind knew that there was no possibility to get away. Another high-pitched note as the whip cut through the air, leaving a mark parallel above the first one, both of them stretching diagonally across his back. He tried his best to still his movements, keenly aware that all his struggles were going to gain him were bleeding wrists from the cuffs, but his body still jerked as the whip landed again and again, painting his skin with red stripes all one inch away from the next.  There was just enough of a pause between each strike for his groans to quiet and for the pain to fade just enough that he’d fully feel the next hit, but never enough for him to fully regain his breath.

The Geonosian worked with cold-blooded precision and even though he couldn’t see the marks he knew that not a single bit of space was wasted – to be expected from a member of a people that got rich on producing weapons of mass destruction, he managed to think between two strikes.

His back was long since slick with his own blood and sweat by the time the whole expanse of his back had been filled, the liquids running into the open cuts and soaking into the band of his tunics. He was more hanging in his chains than kneeling upright by now, the chain links softly clinking against each other as his chest heaved with every breath he sucked in.

The brief lull in no-new-pain stretched out and he briefly entertained the fantasy that he’d be left alone for the time being when he heard the whistle of the whip once more.

If he’d thought the thin strip of leather was bad on unbroken skin, feeling it cut in a criss-cross over the already open wounds was like having molten metal poured over his back. He didn’t manage more than a sudden, quiet exhale at the first hit, the air leaving his lungs as the muscles in his upper body seized. He screamed after the second hit, for the first time since the whipping started. It all blurred together after that. There didn’t seem to be a millimetre left on his back that wasn’t bleeding, the individual cuts blending into each other in his perception until it felt like they had started to rend the whole skin off of his flesh. The time between the strikes stretched, as more than once the pain began to pull him under, blissful obliviousness hovering just at the edge of his mind but remaining out of reach each time as his body got just enough respite to regain full consciousness once more. His screams morphed into sobs and then into whimpers as he didn’t have the strength left for anything more.

He barely noticed when they stopped, the agony too all-encompassing to make distinguishing between a new cut and the old ones truly possibly. Out of half-lidded eyes he saw the two Geonosians step before him, one of them reaching out to attach something to the collar on his neck. They left the room, leaving behind only a hair thin red trail where the tail end of whip had been grazing the floor.

Exhaustion washed over Obi-Wan as the pain-induced adrenaline wore off, leaving him trembling. The blackness of unconsciousness came closer once more and he reached out to it gratefully, sinking into its embrace and leaving the pain behind as he closed his eyes.

He jerked back to full awareness with a scream as an electric current erupted from the collar, seizing his limbs and shocking his mind back to full awareness. Desperately he sucked in air through clenched teeth, trying to stave off the pain leftover from the shock and the freshly aggravated wounds.

Sleep deprivation. _Should’ve expected that, Kenobi_ , he thought to himself.

Instead of full unconsciousness, he tried entering a deep trance while keeping his eyes open, but got the same response for his troubles. Whatever they had attached to the collar must have been monitoring his heart rate, and responded with releasing an electric current whenever it sunk under a certain threshold. At least it didn’t get set off by light meditation – it did, however, start releasing a small spark at random intervals, not enough to be meant to cause pain, but something to throw off his meditative focus with its irregularity. And he had thought that the previous collar had been inconvenient.

With nothing else to do, he let himself drift, trying to keep his mind busy with memories and thought constructs. Something to keep himself above the pain from his back and legs, the discomfort of having to put too much weight on his arms so as not to put any strain on the broken bones, and the cold that came with the blood loss and was probably helped by his captors artificially lowering the temperature in the room. If he hadn’t been too exhausted for the extra effort he would have started bitching about the conditions out loud.

Keeping track of time in his condition was tricky, but measuring by the increase in thirst and need for sleep he estimated that it had been ten hours when the door to his cell opened again, interrupting his attempt at remembering all the insults a band of Corellian smugglers had thrown at him when he had led a prisoner transport towards Coruscant. The trip had been nearly a standard day long and between the five of them they had gathered an admirable amount of creativity, if a bit unrefined for his tastes.

Three Geonosians entered, one of them staying next to the door, electro staff in his hands, while the other two walked to each of his sides. One of them pulled out a remote; with a press of the button the chains that had been holding him upright detached from the ceiling. He barely managed to get his arms underneath him to avoid smashing face-first into the stone, even as the strained muscles protested at the sudden change in position with a ferocity that had him gritting his teeth to keep the screams inside.

One of the guards delivered a vicious kick to his already tender chest, causing him to collapse in on the side, his body curling in on itself causing a few of the cuts on his back to rip open as the wounds were stretched. Another claw to the shoulder turned him onto his back, grinding down with merciless force even as his body tried to arch upwards to keep the open flesh from rubbing against the rough stone floor. Faintly he could hear more rhythmic clicking sounds from above him – laughing, he realised belatedly. His hands scrabbled against the appendage, too weakened by the extended suspension to be able to move the foot away. So instead he reached upwards, to the lower of the two joints of the leg, fingers finding the small gap between the impervious chitin armour pieces that made up the Geonosian’s exoskeleton and with as much strength as he could muster, he pulled.

The piece ripped free from the flesh and warm, green blood gushed over his arms and his chest. The pressure on his torso disappeared as the Geonosian stumbled backwards, screeching. The small feeling of triumph lasted only for a second, then the Geonosian who had been standing at the door rammed the blunt, charged end of his electro staff into his chest and the world dissolved into white pain and the smell of ozone and burned skin.

On the edge of his perception he registered the two Geonosians that were still able to stand picking him up by his arms and dragging him out of the cell. He knew that he should try to examine the hallways they dragged him through to find out where exactly he was, but the electricity had numbed his body, leaving him with his head hanging down, matted hair that had gone from copper red to a stained brown falling into his face. At least the lack of neuralresponse meant that he was spared from the undoubtedly gruesome feeling of having his broken legs pulled over the floor. For now.

Dimly lit hallways were replaced by a white room with harsh neon lights that made his head hurt. The guards relinquished their hold, dropping him onto hard white tiles. He fell face first, his right cheek cracking against the ceramic with enough force to leave a lovely bruise. Something clinked out of his field of vision and then a chain was attached to the collar, his weak attempts of squirming away easily stopped by a clawed foot on his back.

Footsteps retreated away from him and he could hear the sound of the door slamming shut, leaving him alone in the room. As far as chances for escape went, this would have probably been the best for a long time coming, but at the moment he didn’t even have the strength to lift his head, let alone stand up – which would have been impossible anyway, with the state his legs were in.

After a few minutes he at least managed to sit up when the numbness had faded enough. He would have liked to settle into one of the traditional meditation poses but with his broken legs he settled for simply stretching them out in front of him. At least the chain had enough leeway for that, stretching about five feet from where it was anchored in the middle of the room. Now that he was sitting, he could see that the room also included a chair that was standing a bit further into the room, made out of solid durasteel and bolted to the floor. The chain kept him from touching it, but even without that he knew that it couldn’t bode well, despite its apparent simplicity.

The door opened, bringing in another set of Geonosians, two with staves, and one carrying a small container. The two armed guards seized his arms, hefting him up until he was kneeling on the floor while the other moved to stand behind him. He could hear a crack as the container was opened and then the sharp tang of ethanol filled the room. _Oh no_ , he had time to think and then the container was upended over his back.

The marks had been barely closed before, and his earlier skirmish with the guards certainly hadn’t made things better. The ethanol running into the wounds burned as if they had cut open him all over again and he screamed, twisting against the iron grip of the guards. Even after the liquid had run its course, the burn lessened only gradually, but the guards only waited for him to stop screaming before they pushed him into the chair. Thick metal bands sprung out of formerly smooth surface, snapping tight around his forehead, limbs and torso, leaving no room for any more movement than curling his toes. They manually fastened his fingers to the armrest and left the room.

For a moment, he was confused – he had expected them to at least start breaking his fingers. Then the first needle pierced his skin, in the middle of his lower right arm. His body jerked, instinctively trying to get away from the sharp object that was being slowly pushed out of the armrest and through his flesh, but the restraints did their job well. His breath came in short, strained gasps as he tried his best to relax the muscle that was being torn into. It took over half an agonizing minute until the needle was through, tearing through the skin on the side he could see, showing it to be half a centimetre thick, which went a long way into explaining why it hurt so damn much.

 _Precision_ , he thought, remembering Dooku’s remark about the Geonosian’s knowledge of causing pain, then bit back a pained groan when the next needle began working its way through his thigh, scraping along the bone. Even the brief pauses between each needle did not bring much relief as his body kept instinctively tensing up in preparation for the pain he knew would come. There was no discernible pattern in the torture, no way to tell when or where the next needle would appear.

With nothing else in the bare room to keep his mind off the pain, he began counting the needles.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Qui-Gon worried for the communication equipment when Mace announced to them that they wouldn’t be able to run an immediate rescue operation.

“We can’t launch a strike against Geonosis without proof that they are holding one of our own prisoner,” Mace said. “Otherwise it will look like we are attacking them on behalf of the Republic because they are a major player in the Separatist movement, and that would be just the necessary spark to kick-start this war that has been hanging over all our heads.”

“But we have proof!” Anakin protested, gesturing towards Qui-Gon. “Master Qui-Gon can testify before the Senate!”

Mace grimaced. “And then it will be one person’s word against the entire Geonosian government. Not to mention one person who had been declared dead before yesterday.”

Qui-Gon all too vividly remembered the similar situation they had been in when they had presented former Queen Amidala’s case before the Senate; when even their combined word had not been enough to call for an emergency vote. It seemed circumstances hadn’t changed for the better.

Now the same woman was standing beside him and Anakin, the heavy robes and complicated hairdo replaced by a long but light lavender dress and a fishtail braid. But even without the Queen’s costume her aura easily commanded just as much, if not even more respect than it had during the Naboo crisis. Even Mace seemed to acknowledge that, still grumbling when Amidala had requested to be included in the conference, but ultimately granting her wish. Knowing just how short his friend’s patience was for people that he considered not intelligent enough to bother dealing with – which applied even more to politicians – this was indeed a high compliment.

“This is bullshit!” Anakin exclaimed, and judging from the twitch in Mace’ eye, it was only extenuating circumstances that kept him from reprimanding the padawan for his language.

“It’s politics,” Senator Amidala injected. Anakin briefly paused at her words, Amidala’s no-nonsense tone taking away some of his momentum, but not enough to keep him from continuing.

 “What are we going to do then? Sit around and wait for him to _die_?”

“Of course not,” Mace scoffed. “It may have escaped your narrow view, but the rest of us would like Knight Kenobi back with us too.” Taking a calming breath, he continued: “A Jedi team has been investigating the Geonosian weapon manufactories for some time as they are suspected to be producing and exporting certain inventions that violate even the slack regulations the Republic has. Artificially manufactured biological weapons that can cause death on a genocidal scale, for one. If something like that would prove true and would be made public the whole Separatist movement would be forced to distance themselves from Geonosis lest they risk losing the support of their less ruthless members.”

“And is there a chance that this venture will be successful in the very near future?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Before yesterday, I would have said no, not with how well they cover their tracks. But within the data R4-P17 has copied from their network, they might just find enough to complete what they’ve pieced together so far.”

“That’s a big maybe,” Qui-Gon said.

“But it’s all we have for now,” Mace said. “For now, be patient. There’s nothing else any of us can do at the moment.”

 

*

 

A tenday later, Anakin was pacing along the edge of the landing platform, exuding enough agitation in the Force that Qui-Gon was beginning to have trouble to hold onto the serenity that usually came so easily to him. If it hadn’t been for both his and Senator Amidala’s efforts he was sure that his grand-padawan would have long since taken the next available spacecraft and flown to Geonosis to get himself killed in a reckless rescue attempt.

With nothing to do but to wait, the padawan had taken to prowling the mansion and the surrounding grounds, leaving a deep sense of frustration in the Force wherever he went. It nearly made Qui-Gon wish that the drugs he had been given to suppress his Force sense would have lasted him a bit longer than two days. Anakin was like a thundercloud, charging the air around him with his mere presence, which was awe-inspiring to watch, but also unsettling for everyone who got close enough to feel the effects. And with Anakin’s power close enough meant up to 300 metres.

Both Amidala and Qui-Gon had tried to talk some sense of calm into him, but had each failed despite their best efforts. At least he was still eating and sleeping, although only because Amidala had pretty much ordered him to do so. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon had managed to coerce Anakin into joining him in a few hand-to-hand spars. He wasn’t sure how much that had helped, as Anakin had kept on losing them – in part because Qui-Gon was – or had been, depending on the time sense – one of the best fighters in the Order, but also partly due to his obviously distracted state. When, after an especially easy defeat, Qui-Gon had tried to tell him that he should keep his mind in the present, Anakin had stared for a long moment before stalking off without a further word, leaving Qui-Gon wondering what exactly he had done to set the boy off now.

It had left Qui-Gon with a bit of solitude; Amidala had certainly been polite enough, but she also kept watching him with a wariness he wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve. Still, she had helped him readily enough when he had asked her for material about the events that had led up to the current political situation, either pointing him in the direction of where to look or recounting her own memories from the times where she had been present. It was quite a mountain of work, but he was grateful to have something to take his mind off the current situation. While he normally preferred meditation as a more direct method of tackling the problem and making peace with the situation, he was unable to find the necessary peace when Anakin’s Force presence kept upheaving the usual tranquillity like a storm sweeping over an ocean, creating monstrous waves that frankly were giving Qui-Gon a head ache.

With everyone’s nerves frayed, it felt like near physical relief to finally get word from the Temple, even if it was only to announce the arrival of a Shadow who would impart any further necessary information on them. The implication that the Shadow would also verify that Qui-Gon was not his own evil clone went unsaid but not unheard.

Anakin stopped trying to wear a hole in the durasteel floor when the small form of an approaching Starfighter began to stand out against the clear Naboo sky. It came closer very quickly, diving downwards until it was only a few metres above the surface of the lake, disrupting the calm water as it raced straight towards them. At the last minute the pilot put on the brake, the small spaceship turning to maximize air resistance until it came to halt only a few feet away from where the two Jedi were standing.

The roof of the cockpit swung up and a man climbed out, dressed in Jedi robes where the arms had been cut off. He had dark skin and a head full of thick dreadlocks of black hair, but it was only once he saw the characteristic yellow band crossing over the bridge of his nose that Qui-Gon connected the dots.

“Quinlan Vos?” he asked, managing to make the surprised question sound more like a polite query.

“Jinn!” the man exclaimed, a bright grin on his face, walking up to them. “Don’t know if someone’s already told ya today, but you’re looking really good for a dead man.”

“Great,” he could hear Anakin murmur beside him and Vos’ attention shifted towards the padawan.

“And a warm welcome to you too, Skywalker,” Vos said, grin never wavering. “Well then, greetings over, we’ve got things to do, places to be.” He cordially slapped Qui-Gon’s shoulder with enough force to fell a man of lesser stature. “Once we’re sure that you’re not suddenly gonna stab someone in the back, that is.”

Vos led the small group back to the mansion, picking out one of its many empty rooms to shove Qui-Gon into before he closed the door in front of a grumbling Anakin.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he,” Vos said once Anakin’s footsteps had gone away.

“There does seem to be a bit animosity between the two of you,” Qui-Gon acceded.

Vos waved a hand. “I wouldn’t call it animosity, or at least not from my side. We just… had a difficult first meeting and Skywalker sorta never got over it. Not that he put a lot of effort into it.”

“You seem to be taking well to your position as shadow,” Qui-Gon said. Vos had been one of Obi-Wan’s age mates, so Qui-Gon had at least seen the other man a few times before Naboo. Of course, his position as padawan to Master Tholme, one of the leaders of the shadows, had made him infamous in his own right.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this, Master Jinn,” Vos said, but his eyes were still twinkling with mischievous amusement. “Sit down, would you? Don’t want to have to stand on my toes for this.”

Qui-Gon did as ordered and Vos moved to sit down in a chair opposite to him, hands reaching out to hover next to the sides of Qui-Gon’s head.

“Now, relax, close your eyes, open your mind and keep it open even if this may feel weird, and we both might walk from this without unnecessary headaches.”

Purposefully dismantling the shields around his own mind went against all of his trained instincts, but necessity made him grit his teeth and push through it. At first, he felt nothing. For a moment he thought Vos had mislead him and wasn’t looking into his mind at all, until he noticed the slinking presence just at the edge of his perception, worming its way into his mental space like water through porous stone. He clamped down on the automatic reaction of wanting to throw the intruder out, instead focusing on his breathing, turning his inner eye away from the intruder to let him do his work.

“Alright, all done,” Vos said, much earlier than expected, and Qui-Gon opened his eyes. “Congrats, you’re officially classified as ‘will probably not turn on us or at least not any more than other Jedi’.”

“Positive attitude,” Qui-Gon remarked, busying himself with rebuilding his shields.

“That’s me,” Vos said. “Here, I even brought you a present to celebrate you passing the test.”

He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a lightsabre, pressing it into Qui-Gon’s hand. It was only once the Kiffar had withdrawn his hand that Qui-Gon noticed that he hadn’t been given just any lightsabre, but the very one Qui-Gon had been using before his skip in time. He stared at it in astonishment.

“You better appreciate this,” Vos said. “I went through a lot of Kenobi’s stuff to find it. Not that I think he’d mind, but you know, showing respect for privacy, that kind of thing.”

“He kept it all these years?” Qui-Gon whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. When he looked up, Vos had raised an eyebrow in a manner that seemed to suggest that he was doubting Qui-Gon’s level of intelligence.

“From what he told me, there was actually a bit of a tug-of-war going on about the thing, what with the whole being the weapon that killed the first Sith in millennia, etcetera. The archivists wanted to display it somewhere, but Kenobi simply refused to hand it over, and in the end there wasn’t much they could do about that.”

Half lost in thought, Qui-Gon curled his fingers around his handle, relishing in the familiar feeling of the metal shape in his hand. Usually a Jedi’s lightsabre would take on the feeling of its wielder’s Force presence, but with the decade that had passed Qui-Gon could tell that his imprint had faded into almost nothing. It was overshadowed by Obi-Wan’s Force sense, the feeling different from how Qui-Gon had known it when Obi-Wan had been a padawan, but still the same in many ways. Laced through it like veins through flesh was grief, heavy and painful, leeching away from the light of Obi-Wan’s Force presence.

Qui-Gon never had much of an affinity to the Unifying Force, but for a moment he swore he saw his own hands replaced by smaller ones, elegant fingers curled around the sabre in a white-knuckled grip as tears dripped down onto warm skin and cold metal.

Across from him Vos was silent, but Qui-Gon could feel the heavy weight of his stare, sharp with the learned observation from a Shadow.

“Come on,” Vos finally said, “let’s meet up with that grouch of a padawan. I wasn’t saying that whole ‘things to talk about’ part just to have the last word.” He stood up, straightening his robes, his movements casual and laid back, the Shadow traits receding once again. Still, Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel that he had been judged for more than just confirmation of his identity – and he wasn’t certain that he had passed.  


*  


“So, basically we’re ready to move and hurl ourselves at Geonosis,” Vos said to Qui-Gon and Anakin. “We have enough dirt on the Geonosians – turns out that one of their bioweapons was responsible for a pandemic that nearly wiped out one of the planets on the Middle Rim, which gives us more than enough leverage to shut them down, especially with all the other coincidental stuff we have on them.”

“The Senate approved of this?” Qui-Gon asked, surprised by the sudden influx of political competence.

“Ah, no,” Vos said. “But since the use of bioweapons on this scale counts as war crime, the Chancellor’s office can issue an emergency mandate. The Senate doesn’t know anything about this – which is quite handy since this whole mission is supposed to be covert so that Geonosis doesn’t do something like shoring up their forces even more.”

“Why the wait then?” Anakin snapped. Qui-Gon glanced sharply at the padawan, even though inwardly he more than agreed. He was all too keenly aware that every second they spent dwindling could easily be the one where Obi-Wan’s death finally rang through the Force.

“The wait is for our dear slicers to use the codes Arfour stole from their systems to shut down the Geonosian defence and droid systems so that we won’t be blown to bits before we can even land,” Vos replied calmly as if he hadn’t noticed Anakin’s tone.

“How long?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Six hours, give or take. Which is why I hope that the two of you are well-rested because we’ll be going into hyperspace in two hours to meet up with the rest of team in the Geonosian sector.”  


*  


From the distance of space, Geonosis appeared like nothing more than a red, dusty marble, innocently nested in the vast blackness. Looks, always so deceiving.

“I can’t sense him,” Anakin murmured beside him and Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped away from the viewport to the padawan, who hastily added: “The bond is still there, but now that we’re closer everything seems shrouded in darkness.”

“To conceal is the very nature of the Dark Side,” Qui-Gon said. “But here we can hope to finally shine some light into it.” He put a hand onto Anakin’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. As long as there’s light, there’s hope,” he said, inwardly trying to convince himself of his words just as much as Anakin.

Through the viewport he could see the other ships; nine other Starfighters, filled with one Jedi respectively, amongst them Master Shaak Ti, Master Fisto and one now-knighted Garen Muln, whose transparent blue figure had stared at Qui-Gon seemingly without blinking during the entirety of their strategy hologram session. The rest of the names, all of them also knights, were unfamiliar to Qui-Gon, which didn’t sit well with him. Still, they didn’t have the time to get acquainted now.

Inside their starship it was just him, Anakin and Knight Vos, who was also piloting, much to Anakin’s displeasure. Amidala had wanted to join them, but in the end she herself had to agree that coming with the Jedi would have defeated all their attempts on making this mission seem like it was not politically motivated. Anakin had left Arfour and Artoo with her, telling the two astrodroids to protect the Senator, which Qui-Gon had secretly found a bit ridiculous, as simple astrodroids had neither the weapons nor intelligence to properly protect anyone.

The moment they got the notice that the Geonosian defence system had been disabled, they assumed their seats, Vos activating the hyperdrive and taking them through the jump from the edge of the system to the edge of Geonosian orbit, before following the group of the other Starfighters and the Judicial fleet into a nosedive into the atmosphere.

Less than a minute after the original signal, they reached the weapons factory, landing in one of the open hangar bays. The Jedi jumped out of the fighters, slicing through any Geonosians that were foolish enough to try and stop them. There wasn’t enough time to try and reason – not that Qui-Gon thought the Geonosians would’ve been receptive to that attempt – as their main priority was the control room of the factory to stop any attempts of the Geonosians to get the control over their droids back.

Qui-Gon had hoped that they would also find Dooku there, but when they reached the room he was disappointed. Two of the knights stayed behind to shut down the controls while the rest of them formed groups of two and three to start scouting the factory. Vos quietly joined their faction, but Qui-Gon paid him no mind as he led them into the lower levels where his own cell had been. In the midst of their descent the speakers crackled, a series of clicking sounds coming out of them. They all exchanged apprehensive glances even as they kept running, unsure of what was being said until Vos’ comm link chimed. It revealed the hologram of Master Shaak Ti who informed them that her team had found the Geonosian leader, Poggle the Lesser, and forced him to surrender.

“What about Dooku’s location?” Vos asked.

Shaak Ti frowned. “He won’t tell. Apparently he’s more scared of him than of us.”

“We’ll find him sooner or later anyway,” Qui-Gon said. “Even he can’t make it around the Judicial blockade.” Dooku had never been that much of a gifted pilot anyway, his strengths lying with his swordsmanship and diplomatic prowess.

They had reached the cell block of the lower levels which seemed all but deserted by the Geonosians, only deactivated battle droids occasionally decorating the halls.

“Any ideas where to go?” Vos asked Anakin, who shook his head. Looking into the Force, Qui-Gon found nothing but a smokescreen of Darkness, making it impossible to find any signs of life forms. They decided to simply try all of the doors until they found something – or hopefully, someone.

It was the 14th door that finally opened to something other than a plain white, unused room and Qui-Gon immediately wished that it hadn’t. Red marred the white tiles, smeared in a long trail from the door to the centre of the room, where a pair of chains with attached hooks dangled over a pool of dried blood. He didn’t have to look deep into the Force to see the echo of pain that permeated the entire room and underneath it all, very faintly, Obi-Wan’s Force signature.

Beside him, Vos muttered a curse while Anakin was practically vibrating with barely constrained anger, his face taking on the colour of the walls.

“Let’s try the other rooms,” Qui-Gon said after a minute, his own voice sounding distant to himself. Vos left the room quietly, but Anakin only moved after Qui-Gon practically shoved him towards the door.

They tore through the next doors with un-Jedi-like brutality, moving more quickly than before. Qui-Gon was already on the door further down their line when Vos called his and Anakin’s name. He turned around to see the Kiffar still standing in the doorway of the white-tiled room they had opened.

“What is it?” Anakin asked impatiently, peering into the room but failing to see anything remarkable. Qui-Gon meanwhile focused on where Vos was leaning against the door frame, one hand clutching the edge.

“Psychometry?” he asked, recalling the Kiffar’s special talent. Vos nodded, his face drawn in concentration.

“Kenobi only left this room very recently,” he said slowly. “About four hours ago. Someone was carrying him – droids, judging from the lack of Force presence – but he was definitely conscious. And there was someone else with them… Dooku, I think.”

Qui-Gon tilted his head in consideration while sifting through the Force in search of his former master’s signature, but at this point it had blended in seamlessly with the dark eddies of the Force, making it seem like it was nowhere and everywhere at once.

“Can you track it?” Anakin asked Vos, who had crouched down and was running his hand over the floor and doorsill.

“Already on it, wonderboy,” Vos said, standing up and walking down the hallway, one hand trailing along the wall. Qui-Gon could practically hear Anakin grit his teeth at the moniker but the severity of the situation was enough to make him hold his tongue as to not disturb the Knight’s concentration, instead following him silently.

Vos led them to the same lift they had used to come down here, skimming a hand over the control pad before punching one of the number buttons. They went upwards and Qui-Gon’s heart sank when the lift door opened to the same hangar they had come from. Beside him Vos was murmuring what sounded like a string of ‘fuck’s under his breath, striding forward and making a beeline for the open end of the hangar. He stopped short at a spot that looked just like the rest of the polished stone floor as Qui-Gon and Anakin hurried to catch up with him.

“The trail ends here,” he said. The implication of the words hung heavily in the air, all of them aware just what this meant but unwilling to confirm it by saying it out loud.

Qui-Gon wasn’t surprised when it was Anakin who broke the dejected silence. “But there’s no way they could’ve gotten away without us noticing! We had the entire planet on scanner since we got to this system and at the very least, any ship going into hyperspace would’ve made it onto the radar!”

“The trail is at least three hours old,” Vos said quietly. “Dooku knew we were coming and they were gone long before we even dropped out of hyperspace.”

“Do you think someone from Judicial warned him?” Qui-Gon asked.

Vos shook his head. “They didn’t even know where we were going. We requested the fleet from one of the standby posts in a nearby system using the Chancellor’s privilege. No one told them what the mission was before we entered the system.” He balled his hands to fists. “And I screened everyone from the Temple myself. No other Jedi knew about this except for them and the Council.”

“Do you think that one of them…?” Anakin said, trailing off. To implicate a fellow Jedi in this situation would be a heavy accusation.

“I’d like to say no, but we have to consider the possibility,” Vos said, a scowl etched on his face. “Dooku had a high standing in the Order and even after he left, he still had the respect of many of our members, though his involvement with the Separatists decreased that considerably.” He sighed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to talk with Master Tholme, this is above my paygrade.”

With Vos gone, Anakin turned towards Qui-Gon. Outwardly, the young man looked almost eerily calm, but around him the Force was vibrating like a living thing.

“Anakin…” Qui-Gon began, but there were no words he could say that would make the situation more bearable. So instead he settled one hand on the boy’s shoulder and sent a soothing touch through the Force. Slowly the charged air around Anakin dissipated, though Qui-Gon could tell that much of the agitation remained inside the boy even when it wasn’t visible in the Force anymore.

“We’ll find him,” Qui-Gon said and Anakin nodded, a grim frown on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

_Five hours earlier_  
  


In his years of being a Jedi, he had had the privilege of visiting many planets, all with their own individual cultures. He had seen so many ways sentients could express their inherent creativity and how beautiful their creations could be, no matter the medium. The sheer diversity of it never ceased to amaze him, no matter how much he travelled.

It would just be his kind of luck that sooner or later he had to run into a people that strived to fucking create the most effective torture device.

In a bizarre way, he had to admit that this invention was impressive, even in its very fucked up design. Bacta was a very tricky substance to handle, in that it was very resistant to attempts to create it in anything but a thick, liquid state that didn’t contain anything other than the solvent and the bacteria. There was successful research being done into creating aerosols, but he had never heard of someone managing to combine bacta with another active agent. Then again, no healer in their right mind would ever have gotten the sadistic idea of creating a mix of bacta and poison gas.

It was quiet ingenious, if one looked at it from a purely scientific point of view. The poison gas burned into the delicate tissue of the alveoli, while the bacta kept on repairing the damage. The Geonosians had found the balance point of the two concentrations where destruction and healing were at the same speed, meaning that there was always some part of his lungs that was not actively bleeding and could work on keeping him alive. The damage from the gas wasn’t getting any worse, but then it also wasn’t getting any better, which meant that there was also always a part of his lung that was actively bleeding. Pushing blood back into his veins was not something the bacta could do, nor could it do much for the pain.

Every breath was accompanied by a terrible burning inside his chest, followed by the feeling of blood accumulating at the bottom of his lungs. A very unpleasant sensation, as the instinctual response from his body was that he might be drowning and not getting enough air, when in fact neither of these were true. But the fear response of his body increased his need for oxygen, which meant having to breathe in more times per minute, which meant more burning and pain.

There was also the matter of him regularly having to cough up the blood, lest he indeed drown. Even here the Geonosians had once again outdone themselves in looking for ways to achieve maximal suffering and decided that chaining people up was too boring when instead one could chain their hands behind their back and then put a fucking pair of thin hooks under their collarbones to keep them upright and from getting away. This meant that every time he had another coughing fit, his body would move against the hooks, making them jar where they were sitting in his flesh. Which was just awesome, really.

 

 

 

Obi-Wan was mostly just concentrating on keeping his breathing even when the door opened and Dooku strode in, face an indifferent mask as he took in the state of his prisoner. Not that there was that much of his injuries to see – all that was visible were the streaks of blood running from his mouth over his chin.

The front of the room was separated from the rest by an energy barrier, acting as an air lock to keep the gas away from the exit and from any other non-mechanical visitors. Dooku stepped to the edge of it, his intense stare never wavering from its focus point.

“Want to trade?” Obi-Wan finally asked, voice rough.

Dooku arched an eyebrow. “It seems that you have yet to learn the lesson of refraining from insolence.”

“Sorry to disa-“ The last bit of the sentence ended with a jagged cough, more fresh blood dribbling down to the puddle that was already forming where he was kneeling on the white tiles of the floor.

“Are you having as much fun as I am?” Obi-Wan asked, once he got his breathing back under control. This time Dooku didn’t even deign him with an answer but seemed content to give him the silent treatment.  Once he got over the creepy staring thing it was actually somewhat boring.

“How come you took Qui-Gon prisoner?”

Dooku straightened a bit. “Where did this question come from?”

If he would have been able to without ripping open his own flesh with the hooks, he would have shrugged. “There’s not much else to do here but thinking. And it’s the one thing I can’t see fitting in the whole become a Sith, rule the galaxy scheme.”

“And why should I answer that question?”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Not the most compelling of arguments, but at the moment he was too exhausted and his voice too strained for long-winded debates. For a long moment Dooku said nothing.

“Because everything else would have been a waste,” he said, just when Obi-Wan had started to believe that he would be ignored again. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, hoping for elaboration.

“Master Kenobi, do you know how one becomes a Sith apprentice?” Dooku asked.

 _By being a massive dick?_ Obi-Wan thought, but bit his tongue. Dooku hadn’t seemed to expect an answer anyway, since he continued.

“Either one is chosen by a Master, or one kills the previous apprentice,” Dooku said. A smirk flitted over his face. “In a way, you would have been in an excellent position to become a Sith apprentice after the Battle of Theed.”

Obi-Wan’s glare told Dooku just how much he thought of that idea.

“Anyway, the studies of the Sith I had done before leaving the Order had convinced me that there was an active Sith Lord out there who had already taken an apprentice, which was a position I had begun to desire for myself. What I needed to do was gain their attention – and what better way to do so than eliminate the competition?”

“Weren’t you afraid that the Sith Lord might kill you out of revenge?”

“The Sith don’t work like the Jedi, Obi-Wan. Only the strongest survive. There is no room for the weak – if a Sith gets themselves killed it is because they weren’t fit for the title in the first place.”

Well, didn’t that just sound fucking sweet.

“As preparation for my leaving of the order, I established contacts with several powerful organizations, one of them being the Trade Federation. I found out that they were doing business with the Sith Lord and when they invaded Naboo I… persuaded them to tell me any details about the Sith’s movement they might have.”

“So you came to Naboo to kill the Sith apprentice?”

“Not just that. I was aware that you and Qui-Gon had been sent there alone even with the threat of the Sith looming, which the Council all too easily ignored, after all. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone. The Order as a whole might be weak and I do not regret leaving that life behind, but there were certain things of mine I was reluctant to leave behind when I could take them with me.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Qui-Gon does not belong to you.”

Dooku’s eyes flashed with anger. “I dedicated ten years of my life to training him – I refused to leave such an investment with the Order.” The cold, calculating demeanour was very convincing, but personally, Obi-Wan thought that there might be a bit more to it than just protecting an ‘investment’; although he wasn’t sure if Dooku was acknowledging that to himself. “Besides, I am not the person in the room who took an actual slave as padawan, _Master_ Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan felt hot ire bubbling up in his chest. “Anakin is not any less of a person in his own right because of his former status. Your egocentric selfishness does not in any way compare to the circumstances he had to face.” Force knows how many hours they had spent discussing how Anakin’s background made him view the classic Master/Padawan relationship, with Obi-Wan telling him that the title Master of a Jedi was not meant to resemble the kind of Master he had known in any way, but that nonetheless, he didn’t have to address him by it if it made him in any way uncomfortable. Anakin had told him that he might be only nine years old, but that he understood the difference between a slave-master and a mentor-master. Obi-Wan had been hesitant, but also unwilling to make Anakin think that he didn’t trust his opinion. Time had proved that Anakin seemed comfortable with the term, and it certainly hadn’t kept him from acting out back then (or now, for that matter).

“Perhaps,” Dooku said complaisantly, with an undertone that said ‘Don’t fucking think so’.

“If you were so keen on keeping your ‘investment’, why didn’t you make Qui-Gon join you?” Obi-Wan asked, hoping to move on from the topic of his own padawan. “You had him here for a full decade after all.”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Dooku answered, his voice the same neutral undertone politicians got when they were talking about ‘things the public and the Order don’t need to concern themselves with’, when what they really meant was ‘things the public and the Order really need to concern themselves with but we’re sure as fuck not going to tell you what they are’.

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said, mentally adding a ‘you little bitch’ to the end of the sentence, before he had to spend a good minute coughing up the accumulated blood in his lungs he had been trying to ignore.

“Might we get back to the topic of the Naboo crisis then?” he drawled in his best mock-polite tone, trying not to give away just how much his entire body _hurt_.

“Certainly,” Dooku said, looking like he would be rolling his eyes at Obi-Wan’s attitude if his mannerisms would allow it. “As I mentioned before, I knew that Qui-Gon and you would end up battling the Sith. So I had a decoy created for Qui-Gon’s body prior to arriving on Naboo, using the genetic sample I still had.” With horror Obi-Wan realised that Dooku must have used Qui-Gon’s padawan braid. “I had meant to wait until you were felled by the Sith’s blade and then join the fight. I had not expected someone who wasn’t even a Knight yet to be able to hold his own like you did.”

“Did you mean for Qui-Gon to get stabbed then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, that wasn’t actually part of the plan – I hadn’t accounted for the ray shields, else I would have stopped the Sith before that. Though it still turned out splendidly in the end. The Sith died and your venture into healing had exhausted you enough that it was easy to use the Force to push you the rest of the way into unconsciousness. I put the decoy into place and took Qui-Gon here.”

“…was it you who severed my bond with Qui-Gon then?” Obi-Wan asked, fighting to keep his voice level. It had been one of the things that hadn’t made sense in the grand scheme of things. There were bonds that had been severed even if one or both persons were only close to death but not yet actually dead; however, his and Qui-Gon’s bond had always been extraordinary resilient.

“Indeed. Such is the power of the Dark Side – though I believe it wouldn’t have been possible had you both not been so weak at that moment. Your bond was exceptionally strong after all.”

 _Revenge is not the Jedi way_ , Obi-Wan reminded himself even as part of him was all too happy to entertain fantasies of strangling Dooku for what he had done. Force bonds were sacred, tied deep within the souls of the two people that had created it. To imagine that Dooku had reached into his mind and destroyed something so precious made him sick. He had been left reeling after Naboo, the remnants of the bond like a black stain on his mind, but he had always attributed it to the influence of the Sith. He supposed in a way he had been right – he just hadn’t been blaming the right Sith.

His train of thought was interrupted when the door opened and a battle droid stepped in, shuffling on the spot when Dooku turned and glared at it.

“I thought I had asked not to be disturbed,” he said with a deceptively soft voice.

“Ah, yes sir, but you have an incoming transmission from-“ The droid’s sensors briefly flickered to Obi-Wan. “You know who,” it finished.  Not that the identity of the caller was that much of a mystery – if it had such a high priority he would bet a bottle of Corellian rum that Dooku’s dark master was calling.

For a brief moment, actual fear flickered over Dooku’s face, much to Obi-Wan’s curiosity. He stored that useful piece of information away for later even as he watched the indifferent mask slide back into place. Without further words, Dooku left the cell, the droid closing the door behind him.

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to be left alone or not. Dooku’s presence had at least given him something else to focus on than the pain, but his hadn’t been the most pleasant of companies.

It was all the more surprising when Dooku returned with a two magna guards a mere half hour later, the expression on his face downright thunderous. Not a good talk then. He could faintly feel Dooku accessing the Force, and then screamed when the hooks where torn out of his flesh, ripping open barely closed wounds once more.

“Take him,” Dooku ordered, and the magna guards stepped forward to grip his arms and haul him off the ground, their build luckily tall enough that his feet were dangling a few inches above the ground, legs not dragging over the floor as they carried him. For once his short height turned out to be an advantage. Stepping out of the cell, the fresh air hit him like ambrosia, his breath finally coming easier. Obi-Wan expected that he was to be brought to another torture chamber, but to his puzzlement, the droids followed Dooku along the hallway opposite to the direction he had come from. Disquiet quickly settled in when they used one of the lifts to get to the upper levels. They hadn’t even bothered blindfolding him; he was being shown a direct route to freedom should he ever manage to escape on his own, no matter how improbable that might be.

The realization washed over him like iced water when they stepped into the giant hanger bay, a shuttle waiting at the end with the ramp lowered. The sudden interruption, Dooku’s anger, the hasty departure from the cell. It seemed like Geonosis was going to have unwelcome visitors very soon and if it was enough to make Dooku relocate they were most certainly Jedi. With the short notice they had to be close already, though that was not going to be any use to him if he was whisked away before they made it into orbit. All he needed was to buy a bit more time and he might just have a slim chance of the shuttle being stopped by Jedi forces. If Dooku brought him away now, he would be hidden away on some backwater planet in a galaxy that encompassed ten thousands of viable possible locations, and his chances of being found and rescued would be non-existent.

 _Fuck no_ , he thought, twisting against the iron grip of the droids, but in his current condition he had the approximate strength of a new-born lothkitten. Still, his struggle made the pace of the guards slow down enough to draw Dooku’s attention, who stopped and turned around, looking thoroughly annoyed.

“You are only wasting your energy, Master Kenobi. I had thought you wiser than this.”

“A common misconception,” Obi-Wan croaked out. After all, he was fucked either way. He could at least struggle when it might still make a difference. A muscle on Dooku’s face twitched and he stepped forward, gripping Obi-Wan’s jaw when he tried to lean away from him, his fingernails digging into the soft skin even as Obi-Wan snarled at him.

“I know that you hope that if you delay our departure enough your beloved rescuers might just make it in time,” Dooku hissed. “Let me disabuse you of that foolish notion. They are still hours away in hyperspace and will find nothing but your empty cell, should they even get that far.”

Obi-Wan’s heart plummeted when he looked into Dooku’s eyes and saw nothing but the cold truth there. If there really had been the possibility of a successful rescue, Dooku would never have wasted time as he was doing now. He lowered his gaze and slumped against the grip of the magna guards. Satisfied with the effect of his words, Dooku let go, smugness practically radiating from him as he took in the defeated posture of his adversary. At least until Obi-Wan slammed his forehead into his face.

With a muffled curse Dooku stumbled back, one hand flying to his broken nose as blood gushed from it. Obi-Wan felt brief disappointment that it hadn’t been enough to drive a few bone shards into his brain. Still, Dooku recovered quickly and wasted no time backhanding Obi-Wan with enough force to make his head ring. His tongue darted out to touch the point where the blow had split his lip, before he looked up to grin at Dooku, teeth stained red with both old and fresh blood.

Dooku responded by pressing his thumb into one of the holes in his shoulder, tearing it further open and making Obi-Wan groan in pain. Fresh blood flowed out of the wound when Dooku withdrew the finger, looking at the soiled hand with disdain, before pulling out a small cloth to wipe the blood away.

“Let’s keep going, shall we?” Dooku bit out, whirling around without awaiting an answer.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It had been three days since they had landed on Geonosis. Three days of digging through whatever scraps of data they might still find on the servers, through all of the files the Jedi Order still had on Dooku in the hopes of getting some hint of where he might have hidden any hideouts, and in general, three days of increasing frustration and hopelessness.

Judicial had taken control of the main factory ground of Geonosis for now and was from there making sure that all the other factories stayed empty and cold as well. The government of Geonosis had gone to Coruscant, with high minister Poggle the Lesser, who had been explicitly implicated by whatever data the Shadows had dug up, going straight into a holding cell and the rest spending hours arguing with the Senate and doing their best to delay the inevitable trial.

Master Tholme had ensured that all Jedi except for Anakin and Qui-Gon had returned to the Temple, and that every byte of transferrable data had been given into the trusty hands of his Shadow operatives at the Temple, in an attempt to prevent any further leaks. Which meant that only Anakin and Qui-Gon remained on Geonosis to try and look through the odd offline pad that turned up. Qui-Gon had wondered about the sudden show of trust, but Master Tholme had informed them that they were only cleared due to having spent the entire time between being informed about the mission and their landing on Geonosis on Vos’ watch. And Vos remained sure that neither of them had tried to do any illicit transmissions to certain desert planets. 

Vos himself had returned on the evening of Day 2, looking like he hadn’t gotten more than three hours sleep since they had last seen him and very pissed off to boot, as the search for the spy in their ranks had proven fruitless so far. He was also the one who brought them up to speed with the current political situation.

With one of their main sponsors and weapon suppliers accused of war crimes, the Separatist movement had taken a heavy blow. More than a few systems had decided that they’d prefer to keep to neutrality instead of being associated with Geonosis and turned to Council of Neutral Systems which was currently being led by Duchess Satine Kyrze, much to Qui-Gon’s astonishment, who still remembered the Duchess as a determined, but merely 19-year-old girl.

The Senate and most of the Republic were relieved that the immediate threat of an attack from the Separatists had been averted, but uncertainty and worry still lingered. Dooku had yet to reappear since the attack on Geonosis, but the Separatist movement had their own Council that seemed to be holding together just fine without him. They had already released a statement that the accusations Geonosis was facing were regrettable, but not representative of the Separatist movement as a whole, and they were holding firm in their belief of independence from the Republic, which, if necessary, they would protect with weapons.

Implicating Dooku would have served well in moving more planets to the more peaceful Council of Neutral Systems, if not back to the Republic, but the former Jedi master had covered his tracks too well. Even the éclat around Geonosis didn’t throw much of a bad light on him as he had never publicly stood by their side but was officially only associated with them as a fellow supporter of the Separatist cause. The Jedi Order might have officially declared him as Fallen, but that meant nothing to the governmental Republic institutions.

This meant that their resources for searching after Dooku were limited to what the Jedi Order could grant them, not that more would have been that much help at the moment since they didn’t even have a starting point or trail they could have followed.

And now after three days, even with all that effort and energy expended, they had nothing to show for it. Vos included, they were all very strong Force users, but all of that power was of no use to them in this situation. Data pads couldn’t be persuaded to tell them the information they needed.

Qui-Gon glanced over where Anakin had fallen asleep on a pile of datapads, finally getting some real rest for the first time since they had landed on Geonosis. Not very wise behaviour, but then lecturing him on taking more breaks would have made Qui-Gon himself a hypocrite.

He briefly thought about moving Anakin to the sleeping pallets – even with the advantage of youth, his current position was bound to put a crick into his neck when he woke up. Qui-Gon didn’t think that he could manage such a feat without waking the padawan though, and he certainly did not want to disturb his sleep. During the previous times when Anakin had taken a break for a short nap, his rest had been turned uneasy by nightmares which caused him to look even more tired afterwards. Qui-Gon had thought about trying to bring up the subject, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything that could be said to help the padawan, considering that Qui-Gon could well imagine what his nightmares were about. After all, they likely featured the same fears that were the reason why he himself avoided sleep.

Qui-Gon himself decided to take a break from straining his eyes by looking at screens for too long and sank into meditation. Even days after Dooku had left Geonosis, he could still acutely feel the aura of Darkness his former master had left behind in the Force around them. Mournfully he brushed along the place in his mind where their bond used to be before it had been severed during his Knighting ceremony. The remains had been eroded away by time and lack of care. Briefly, he wondered if the complete destruction of it might also be tied to his Dooku’s Fall.

 _How could you, Master?_ he wondered sadly. He wished that he had been able to talk to him face-to-face when he had still been on Geonosis. But Dooku had only visited him once, right after he awoke from his coma. His master’s face had been the first thing he had seen when he had opened his eyes, but before he had gathered the strength to speak, the man had left without a further word. From then on, his only companions had been droids, bringing him food and reading material, but not giving any answers no matter how much he threatened or pleaded.

The next, and the only other time he had seen Dooku, had been when he had brought Obi-Wan to his cell. Now, with everything he knew, he was puzzled that Dooku had never attempted to convince him to join him. Maybe he had just – rightfully – assumed that Qui-Gon would have refused? Still, it seemed uncharacteristic for him to not even try. And with Dooku also holding Obi-Wan’s life in his hands… Qui-Gon couldn’t say for sure that he would have been immune to blackmail when it came to protecting his padawan’s life.

Not wanting to dwell unnecessarily long on things he was unable to change at the moment, he returned his focus inwards. Searching deeper into his mind, he found the place where his bond with Obi-Wan used to be. He had thought that it would be just as barren as the one belonging to Dooku had been, but to his astonishment, he felt a fragile golden thread springing from within his mind, flowing to the outside until he couldn’t make it out anymore against the Force noise of the universe.

This was… unexpected, to say the least. Even blind to the outward Force on Geonosis, he had still been aware enough of his own mind, and had been sure that his bond with Obi-Wan was gone. It had caused him a great amount of distress back then, as anxiety about the potential death of his padawan had dominated his thoughts even as he tried to reason with himself that the break might just be a scar remaining from the fight with the Sith and his very close brush with death.

With all the fretting and hours of meditation in lieu of anything else to do, he doubted that he could have missed such a blatant thing.

He carefully prodded the so fragile looking bond and it hummed with his touch like a plucked string. It was of the Light Side, of that much he was sure, which meant it couldn’t have been Dooku who had created it.

Maybe the bond they had before Naboo had re-established itself during their mad escape from the Geonosian prison? Still, something like that shouldn’t have been possible through sheer proximity – there needed to be some kind of spark for the bond to build on; they weren’t just created spontaneously.

Mentally, he went through their entire time together, until he got to the point where he had taken off with the ship. He could remember wrestling with the controls, trying to get the unfamiliar ship under control as it was buffeted by the winds created by the Force battle, Arfour chirping agitatedly behind him, probably flinging around all sorts of insults at his piloting skills. Not that he had cared back then, as all his remaining attention had been focussed on the then-unknown knight and his own master.

He had been trying to figure a way to use the weapons system in a way that wouldn’t also injure and kill the Knight, in what he had even then been aware was nothing more than a desperate and ultimately doomed fool’s notion. And then he had felt the Knight touch his mind.

In hindsight he could hit his head against the wall for not recognizing Obi-Wan’s touch. He had been so caught up in his own mind, in the helplessness caused both by his inability to reach the Force and the entire situation, that he had been unable to recognize his own padawan.

His emotions had been a jumbled mess, far from the usual countenance of a Jedi master. But with the simple touch of the other’s mind against his, the storm inside him had stilled. Even with impending death so close, there had been nothing but serenity exuding from the other man. The sheer warmth that had been transmitted through the mental touch had taken his breath away. It had been so peaceful – there hadn’t been any worry in the Knight for his own fate, only for Qui-Gon’s state of mind. The acceptance of the inevitability of the future and the hope for it had outshone Qui-Gon’s negative emotions.

A touch so purely from the Light Side – yes, Qui-Gon could see how it might have been just the necessary spark to tie the ends of their broken bond back together.

Maybe if Obi-Wan had been on the same planet now, Qui-Gon would have been able to find him, but with possibly hundreds of parsecs spanning between them he didn’t stand a chance.

And yet… On second thought, dismissing that venue so quickly might be premature. Qui-Gon straightened up as a plan came to his mind. Quietly he rose from his mat and slunk out of the room, walking past a few doors before he headed into the room where they had set their temporary sleeping quarters. Vos was sleeping on one of the pallets like the secretly sensible-about-their-health person he was.

“What is it?” Vos asked and Qui-Gon froze in the doorway. Not sleeping then. The Knight sat up on the pallet, dragging a hand through the thick dreadlocks that were falling into his face.

“I may have a plan on how to find Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said after only a brief pause.

“May have?” Vos repeated. “What’s the may bit of it?”

“I’m not sure if it’s actually feasible. Or if it is, if it’s survivable for all involved.”

Vos looked at him with obvious amusement. “Sounds like an ordinary plan to me; I don’t understand what you’re so hung up about, Jinn. So, do share with the class.”

Qui-Gon sat down cross-legged to be at eye level with Vos. “I want to use Anakin’s padawan bond and the remains of my own bond with Obi-Wan to create a mental connection and possibly pinpoint his location.”

Vos drew up an eyebrow. “Ambitious, are we? That’s not something you’re supposed to do when the other person is probably several sectors away from you.”

“Yes, but at the moment we have an optimal prerequisite for this undertaking. Anakin has the necessary power to establish such a long range connection, I can provide the necessary fine control, and both of us have a connection and know exactly what Force presence we are looking for.”

“Kenobi will be wearing an inhibitor – no way Dooku’s letting him run around without one. There won’t be much of a Force presence you can look for.”

“An inhibitor only locks the Force presence inside the person. The Force bonds have their origin from within Obi-Wan’s presence and if we travel along them we can circumvent the inhibitor.”

Vos hummed in consideration. “And since you’d be working as pair with Skywalker, together you might just get a strong enough bridge. Still pretty insane, but not impossible. What do you need me for?”

“Grounding. With your skillset I imagine you have more than enough expertise in that ability.”

“Alright. Have you already asked Skywalker?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. “No, not yet. He’d agree in a heartbeat, I’m aware, which is exactly why I don’t want to present this plan to him unless I’m sure that it won’t kill us all. I don’t fancy getting lost somewhere in the Force or our minds being torn apart from the strain. But if there’s enough of a chance that we could succeed...”

“I think we have more than just a chance. Skywalker and Kenobi have one of the strongest bonds in the Order; even across this distance we shouldn’t be in too much danger of straying away from it. I actually foresee the greatest danger in not being burned alive by exposure to Skywalker’s Force presence.”

“I have faith in him,” Qui-Gon said.

“No offense, but that boy is a lot stronger than he was when you met him ten years ago. I swear to the Force, Kenobi’s greatest achievement is actually teaching that boy some control and not dying in the progress. Especially with how young he had been when he got saddled with that responsibility.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but Qui-Gon heard the reproach just fine and winced. “Yes, I know,” he said quietly. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Vos snorted. “Yeah, and not just for that.” He stood up, straightening his rumpled tunics. “But let’s find him first.”

*

As Qui-Gon had predicted, Anakin didn’t even bother to listen beyond ‘we might have found an alternative searching method’ before giving his empathetic agreement. Qui-Gon’s warning that they might well gain nothing from it didn’t seem to really register with him, the flare of hope that had been ignited by the concept of finally having something concrete to do staying undiminished. It made the whole plan sit even more uneasily with Qui-Gon, but it was too late to stop now.

They sat down in a circle, using their sleeping pallets as cushions, and grasped each other’s hands. Looking inward, Qui-Gon calmed his mind, firmly shoving his reservations about this undertaking away, and let the Force flow through him. Once he had sunk deep enough into a trance, he reached out towards Vos and Anakin over their contact points, linking their Force presences together.

 _Ready?_ he asked through their connection and got a wordless affirmation from both.

Despite Vos’ warning, delving into Anakin’s Force presence tethered more on his own stability than he had expected. Even with the trance they were in, the Force swirled chaotically inside Anakin like a hurricane, its currents fast and strong and threatening to crush the mind of anyone who got too close. It almost hurt to be this near to it, like standing too close to an open fire, the usual warmth of the Force so concentrated that it could cause injury. Qui-Gon had to suppress the first instinctual response of closing himself off again to get a relief from the sheer intensity of the Force presence. Instead, he forced himself to keep looking at it. Usually during trances, Jedi would consciously quiet down the flow of the Force around them, but Anakin’s presence was so densely enveloped by the Force that even Master Yoda would have been unable to muster the necessary control for such a feat.

The longer he studied the Force eddies around Anakin, the more Qui-Gon could see that it wasn’t a tangled mess as he had originally thought; but that Anakin had smoothed the natural criss-crosses out, allowing an orderly web to form which he in turn could direct, even if he couldn’t suppress it. It was quite ingenious, and Qui-Gon had the inkling that it hadn’t been Anakin’s idea alone.

Still, the Force strings were too powerful for him to put a stand against. So instead of trying to hold on against the rising and ebbing tide, he let himself flow with the currents, moving along its push and pull like a reed in the wind. He could feel Anakin reaching out, pulling him and Vos deeper inside his Force presence, to the point where his bond to Obi-Wan originated, a thick, woven strand of light energy that stood out even amidst the surrounding brightness.

Together they expanded their focus, following along the rope through the eddies of the Force. Within its plane, distances didn’t seem to exist, everything near and far at the same time. Yet the further they got, the less clear the bond appeared to be. The thick rope of light seemed to disintegrate into finer fibres that were harder and harder to make out against the background hum of the Force, the previously clear path blurring before them.

 _This isn’t going to work_ , Vos said. _At this rate there’s no way we’ll make it through._

Anakin’s presence flared bright with protest and anger, but Qui-Gon just felt resignation, aware of the truth ringing in Vos’ words. Gently he touched upon Anakin’s presence, pushing him back and towards Vos’ anchor point.

His awareness returned to his body and he opened his eyes, taking and releasing a deep breath as he re-accustomed himself with being surrounded by physical sensations. Next to him, Anakin was standing up, a slight wobbliness in his legs the only indication that their undertaking had affected him.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled and left the room. Qui-Gon looked after him, heart clenching at the dejection rolling off of the padawan.

“This was stupid,” he said, mostly to himself. Getting up someone else’s hopes in this desperate situation when he had known all too well that they would most likely fail.

“It was worth the try,” Vos said. “Finding and losing hope is inevitable given the current situation. Skywalker might be impulsive and in poor control of his own emotions, but he’ll get himself back together if we give him a few hours.”

Qui-Gon looked over to where the Kiffar was standing up and stretching his limbs, but said nothing.

“Anyway, I’m going to go back to sleep. That one hour I got before isn’t going to cut it. I suggest you do the same.”

“I don’t think-“

“I misspoke,” Vos cut him off. “Imperative. Go to sleep Jinn. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been awake for three days straight. I’d tell you about how this is helping no one, but I expect you to know all the arguments already. So, nighty-night.”

Without waiting for Qui-Gon’s answer, Vos straightened his pallet out and flopped down on it, pulling the blanket over him. For a moment Qui-Gon stared, first at him, and then at his own pallet that someone else had put here for him. After brief hesitation he shrugged off his robe and took off his boots before climbing onto the makeshift bed. He had barely finished settling under the blanket before he nodded off.

  
*

  
He was awoken much too soon by someone roughly shaking his shoulder. His inner clock told him that he couldn’t have been asleep for more than five hours, which would have been alright under normal circumstances but wasn’t quite enough with the sleep deprivation from the past few days.

“Master Qui-Gon!” someone – Anakin – called urgently.

“What is it?” he asked, Jedi training ensuring that no sleepiness lingered but doing nothing for the grumpiness that came from the unwelcome wakening.

“We have to try again,” Anakin said, speaking quickly. “The Force searching, I mean.”

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon sighed. “I understand how you feel but-“

“I know, I know,” Anakin said impatiently. “But I swear this isn’t some desperation move, this time we really might succeed.”

“And what makes you think that, young one?” Qui-Gon asked, sceptical.

“I can feel it in the Force. Something’s shifted, and the bond feels a lot more concrete than before. Plus there’s this really persistent nudging from the Force.” He rolled his eyes when Qui-Gon looked at him unimpressed. “Just, look for yourself would you.” He grabbed one of Qui-Gon’s hands and let down his mental shields. Reluctantly, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, concentrating his Force sense. To his surprise, he saw that Anakin was right. The bond seemed much more tangible than before, more alive. Concentrating, he could feel the Force pushing at his own mind, urging him on in his decision, whispering that their window of time was short.

“Let’s get Knight Vos,” he said.

  
*

  
Vos was just as disbelieving at first, but like Qui-Gon he came around quickly. Establishing their circle was easier this time now that they were more used to each other and soon they were hastening along the bond once more, surer in their metaphorical steps with the renewed strength of the trail. Still, they had to slow their pace after a while, treading more carefully as the bond thinned. But unlike the last time it didn’t fray out and fade into its surrounding, but kept a visible thin core line running ahead. They reached along the singular fibre and finally, finally touched something tangible on the other end of it.

It was a gentle, warm signature, but unlike what he had felt on Geonosis, the light was much more dim and smaller. Still, relief flooded through Qui-Gon upon reaching Obi-Wan’s Force presence, and he felt the emotion mirrored in Anakin and Vos. Carefully, he reached out and brushed against the other mind, so far away across the galaxy but still so near through the Force. The signature wobbled, but didn’t seem to take real notice of the contact, so Qui-Gon tried again, prodding harder this time.

The signature unfurled slightly, a noticeable change of a bit of awareness being extended outwards. Faint confusion echoed across the bond, muffled by drowsiness and exhaustion. Next to him Qui-Gon could feel Anakin joining into the contact, nudging once more. This time they seemed to succeed as sharp surprise flared up, followed by a sudden alertness.

Without warning, adamantine shields slammed into place around them, layers upon layers building a mental fortress. While under different circumstances they would have been automatically pushed out of the other mind by the defensive measures, in this case they weren’t trying to reach towards Obi-Wan from the outside but from within, the bond transcending any boundaries between them.

 _Obi-Wan!_ Qui-Gon called out and was answered by a massive wave of anger and determination slamming into him, threatening to rip his mind out of the Force plane and into the void.

 _Get the fuck out of my head_ he could hear Obi-Wan project, followed by another surge.

 _Master!_ Anakin cried out and the surge that had been so intent on squishing him froze.

 _Anakin!?_ Obi-Wan sent. _What-?_ Bewilderment echoed through the Force.

 _Not just him_ Vos chimed in.

 _Quin? And-_ A brief pause. _Qui-Gon, is that you?_

 _Indeed_ Qui-Gon responded, amusement mixed with contentment. _Please do not try to grind my mind to dust again._

 _Ah, my apologies_ Obi-Wan said, sheepishness underlying his words. _But, how are you doing this?_

 _Combined deep Force trance and usage of your and Skywalker’s bond_ Vos said.

Amusement mixed with concern radiated through the bond. _And the Council permitted this? Seems like a textbook example on getting yourself lost in the Force to scare younglings with._

 _Well, we didn’t exactly ask them_ Anakin said.

Obi-Wan projected the mental equivalent of a sigh. _Should have known._ His mood sobered. _But I imagine we have more important things to discuss._

 _Your rescue, for example_ Vos said.

 _That would be much appreciated_ Obi-Wan responded, trying for levity, but being betrayed by the underlying weariness and exhaustion of his own mind.

 _Do you know what planet you’re on? Or in which system you are?_ Vos asked.

 _I don’t have a name or coordinates, but I can give you a few pointers at least_ Obi-Wan said. _It’s nearly six hours through hyperspace away from Geonosis. Singular star system, and the planet is colonized, though only sparsely populated I think. No space traffic. Sulfuric, yellow water, though I’m not sure if that’s global or just local._

Qui-Gon mentally checked the attributes against the planets they had been able to associate with Dooku, but several of those could fit that description. But then the pinpointing would get them some additional information, hopefully.

 _You wouldn’t happen to know if something changed around the Force on your end during the last few hours?_ Vos asked.

The mental equivalent of a question mark echoed over the bond. _I don’t think so? Not that I’m much aware of the Force thanks to the inhibitor. Why do you ask?_

 _We’ve tried to contact you before_ Anakin chimed in. _But we couldn’t reach you._

A brief moment of thoughtfulness and then bitter humour reached them. _Ah, that would be because I’m unconscious right now for the first time in… how many days has it been since Qui-Gon left?_

 _Fourteen_ Qui-Gon said, feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the room temperature. _You haven’t slept since then?_

 _Not by choice, I assure you_ Obi-Wan said dryly.

 _Why is Dooku doing this?_ Vos asked, a frown audible in his mental voice. _What kind of information is he after?_

 _Information?_ _What do you- ah, no no, he isn’t. After information, that is. He wants me to become his apprentice._

 _He’s aware that you’ve already finished your apprenticeship right?_ Anakin asked after a pause.

_A jedi apprenticeship. But not one in the ways of the Sith._

_Sith!? The Sith are involved in this?_ Qui-Gon asked, shocked.

 _Yeah, well, of course?_ Obi-Wan sent back, confusion echoing over the bond, followed by apprehension. _Oh, you don’t know. Obviously, how would you anyway- stupid, stupid._ The last bit seemed directed at himself and Qui-Gon wondered if Obi-Wan was aware just how much he was broadcasting over the bond. _Anyway, yes, the Sith are involved – I’m sorry Qui-Gon, Dooku is a Sith apprentice._

 _Oh,_ Qui-Gon thought, feeling numb at the revelation. He had thought that his former master falling would be as bad as it could get. That had already been hard enough to believe, but Dooku being a Sith…

 _How do you know?_ Vos asked, much faster in accepting the news than Qui-Gon was.

 _He told me, for one. The Sith lightning was a pretty good indicator too. And…_ Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment. _You can feel it. Even without access to the Force. The only other time I felt an aura like that was when we- when we fought the Sith on Naboo._

 _Can you show us?_ Quinlan asked. Immediately indignation and anger on his master’s behalf radiated from Anakin, but Quinlan continued talking before the padawan could get a word in. _We have to know for sure. This is a very heavy accusation, not to mention the implications a Sith involvement brings with it._

Obi-Wan was quiet for a few long moments. _…I don’t suppose there’s a way for you to unlink my padawan for this?_

 _No, I’m sorry_ Quinlan said and Obi-Wan sighed. Qui-Gon could feel him focussing through the Force and then the memory starts to unfold in his mind.

 

The door flies open and rips him out of his delirium-like state. Rage floods into the room like a high-tide and he barely has the time to look up to see Dooku’s face, distorted by anger, and then the chains that hold his arms up are severed and he’s thrown across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. A hoarse cry rips from his throat as the wounds on his body jar with the impact. The Force feels like a giant hand against him, pressing him into the wall, making it hard to breathe as his chest can’t rise against the hold that pins him in position like an unfortunate butterfly.

The dark Force crackles around Dooku like a thunderstorm as he advances, his presence seeming to draw the light from the room, but then that might just be the hallucinations from the sleep deprivation setting in.

“The information leak,” Dooku hisses. “It was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Obi-Wan gasps, and he isn’t even lying.

“ _I_ don’t have the patience for your word games. I don’t know how you did it, but I _know_ that you put the incriminating evidence in the hands of the Order.”

Belatedly Obi-Wan realizes that he must mean the information that Arfour copied on its memory drive. So something useful did come out of it then, he thinks, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. His reaction only infuriates Dooku more and he’s dropped on the floor where he lands in a crumpled heap, too weak to even attempt to break his fall.

“Ow,” he says for effect, and gets a kick to the stomach for his troubles that has him curling in on himself as much as his broken body allows him to.

He looks upwards from where he is lying on his side to see the beginning of blue sparks dance around Dooku’s fingertips, their light throwing his face into sharp shadows. Keeping his eyes focused is becoming increasingly harder, but he can still clearly make out the yellow eyes burning in the darkness.

The lightning rains down and he convulses at Dooku’s feet, his body screaming with pain, not enough air in his lungs even when Dooku stops briefly, only to start again. And again. And again. And-

 

Qui-Gon came back into his own mind with the throbbing phantom ache from memories that weren’t his. Anger was coursing through him like a living thing, followed by the helplessness that came with being thousands of lightyears away while his former padawan was put through this torture.

 _I’m sorry_ Vos said.

 _Don’t be. I understand the necessity to have proof_ Obi-Wan said, then paused briefly. _Anakin… are you alright?_

Anakin, whose mind had been eerily quiet just moments before, flared up. _Am_ I _alright? What the hell, master?_

 _I’m sorry_ Obi-Wan said. _I didn’t want for you to see this._

 _Stop_ Anakin said. _I- just, stop it with the apologizing, there’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m the one who’s sorry dammit, I- I should’ve-_

 _No, padawan_ Obi-Wan cut him off. _There is nothing you could have done. Do not go down that road._

 _Obi-Wan_ Vos interrupted them. _Do you know how Dooku could’ve known where the information came from?_

Qui-Gon frowned. _Isn’t it a rather simple conclusion?_

 _I’d agree_ Obi-Wan said. _But… he also knew that you were coming to Geonosis, hours before your supposed arrival. He came back with that information after he convened with his master._

 _His master!? Did you see him?_ Vos asked, for the first time truly agitated.

 _No_ Obi-Wan said. _I only know about it because their call interrupted a… conversation I was having with Dooku. I couldn’t even tell you what their gender is. Just…_ A feeling of unsettlement ran through the bond. _Whoever they are, they are powerful enough to make Dooku fear them._

And Dooku had been one of the most powerful Jedi of the Order, Qui-Gon thought with a chill. Being afraid was not something he was used to associating with his former master.

 _There’s also- also something Dooku said back when he had still been trying to convince me to join him without the torture bit_ Obi-Wan said. _He had been talking about the corruption in the Senate a-and how they have been actively working towards kick-starting the war. He said that the Sith had infiltrated the Senate and were influencing their actions, and he heavily hinted that the Sith master might be an active member of the Senate._

 _But there’s Jedi every day who are visiting the Senate!_ Anakin cried out. _Someone would’ve noticed if one of the Senators were a Sith!_

 _Not necessarily_ Vos said. _There’s a lot of truth in Yoda’s talk about how the Dark Side is hard to see. Although I am doubting that Dooku was trying to do anything but mislead you, Obi-Wan._

 _Yes, I know_ Obi-Wan said, his mental voice sounding more and more exhausted. _I still wanted you to- to know. Just in case._

 _Master, are you alright?_ Anakin asked.

 _Yes, I- this is just starting to draw a- a lot on my remaining reserves_ Obi-Wan responded, the tiredness they had felt growing during the conversation making his words sluggish.

 _We should quit now_ Vos said. _No need to risk mental shock any more than we already have._

 _Obi-Wan_ Qui-Gon said. _We’ll find you. Just-_

 _Just hang in there_ Anakin finished his sentence.

 _I know you will_ Obi-Wan sent back, letting a wave of gentleness rush through the bond like warm water. Qui-Gon reached back, following along the shattered strands of their bond as well as he could, even when it didn’t seem to be more than a thin thread. A moment later Obi-Wan’s presence disappeared altogether when Vos pulled them back into the physical plane.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, imagine me pointing repeatedly at the warning for violence/torture.1 detail in the end notes for anyone who prefers to be warned.   
> This chapter is pretty dark, but don't worry, after this the worst is over and things will lighten up! :)

“That was a very reckless and very stupid thing to do,” Mace said, his arm crossed in front of his chest as he glowered at them. The effect was mostly diminished by the size of the tiny blue hologram that just couldn’t contain all of the Jedi master’s imposing appearance.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Qui-Gon said, unable to keep himself from needling the other master further.

“And it easily could have come at a great loss,” Mace replied. “Because you all could have fu- frigging died.”

“But it did come with a high reward,” Vos interjected. “And for now that’s all that counts. So, what’s the Council’s verdict about the new information?”

Mace sighed. “The analysers are still working on the list of planets that fit into the criteria. Since we have to calculate for an error depending on how fast Dooku’s ship is and on Obi-Wan’s own accuracy the number isn’t exactly small, even when we account for your attempts at approximation via the bond, which, no offense, I doubt is very exact.”

“And now we’ll wait until the data wranglers finish? Can’t we already start looking at some of those planets now?” Anakin asked empathetically.

“That depends,” Mace said. “If you can promise that, in the case that you should find something, you won’t charge ahead and ruin any rescue operations by Dooku switching planets again, then yes, you can start running scans on planets that are on the list.”

That seemed to be enough of a surprise to make Anakin go silent. Mace scoffed at his shocked expression. “Really, Skywalker? We know that you might not have the highest opinion of the Council, but contrary to what you think we didn’t get our positions by being idiots. We know that there’s no use in having you stay on Geonosis doing nothing. Plus we all know that you would just run off on your own even if we don’t give you permission so with this being an official assignment you can at least tell us where you went so we don’t have to double back all over the galaxy.”

“Yes, master,” Anakin said, sounding simultaneously befuddled and appeased.

“Hmph. We do insist that you take Jinn with you though. If only to keep you both from making any more spontaneous and reckless decisions.” The last bit was directed at Qui-Gon, who just gave Mace his best serene-Jedi-Master expression, which – judging by the glare he got back – didn’t improve his friend’s mood in the slightest.

“What about Dooku’s allegations that there’s a Sith in the Senate?” Vos asked.

Mace tilted his head slightly. “We haven’t reached a conclusion on that yet, not with everything else that needed to be discussed. The Council isn’t dismissing the idea, but we’re sceptical nonetheless. Our relation with the Senate has become more and more complicated with the potential war looming over everyone’s heads, so it could also be a ploy to sow more distrust. Or just an outright lie. But it would also explain many things.” Mace stopped to look somewhere to the side, away from the focus point of the hologram. “The influence of the Dark Side has been growing ever stronger on Coruscant. We’ve thought that it was the fear and anger the powder keg of the war was bringing with it, but maybe there is an actual presence at the heart of it.

“Anyway, at the moment we have to put our focus on Dooku,” Mace continued. “So, if there’s nothing else, go and ready Knight Vos’ starfighter. We’ll send you the list in a few moments.”

  
*

  
Obi-Wan lay on his side, staring motionlessly at the brushed steel door. The floor was cold and wet and wherever it touched his body the skin had gone numb by now.

Obi-Wan jerked out of his drifting state when the door to his cell opened, flooding the small room with harsh lights. The intensity of it made him flinch, weakly raising one arm to shield his eyes, causing the chains attached to the cuff to jingle. He blinked several times, finally seeing the tall silhouette that was standing in the doorway.

The figure walked towards him, but he was too tired to move. It descended onto him like a bird of prey, but the pain he had expected didn’t come. Instead gentle hands carefully cradled his face, mindful of the cuts and bruises. He looked up at the figure and met the blue eyes of his master, shining with familiar warmth.

“Qui-Gon,” he breathed out, his voice rough and raspy after long hours of torture.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, and then he was enfolded in big arms, pressed against the robed chest. His body hurt at the contact, but his soul rejoiced, starving for the comfort it was now offered. He trembled from the force of his emotions, his frame shaking like a leaf in the wind. Qui-Gon carefully ran a broad hand over his head, one of the few places that hadn’t been cut up or burned, stroking the matted hair.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you now,” Qui-Gon said quietly. Obi-Wan relaxed into his embrace, feeling warm and safe for the first time in weeks.

Until the lightsabre pierced through his abdomen.

Obi-Wan’s breath stopped, his lungs refusing to work through the shock as he froze, his mouth opening without a sound escaping. He looked down between them, seeing the red plasma blade that had been stabbed through Qui-Gon’s stomach, and further into his own body. He tried to push himself away, to escape the burning of the sabre, but Qui-Gon’s grip around him tightened, keeping him in place even as he struggled feebly.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice strained from the pain. “Qui-Gon, let me go, please-“

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked, his voice flat. “So you can abandon me again?”

“I- I didn’t-“

“Ten years, Obi-Wan. Ten years and you didn’t bother looking for me even once?”

“I didn’t know that you were alive!” Obi-Wan cried, gasping for air.

“You were my padawan. How could you not have noticed?”

“I-I’m sorry, Qui-Gon, please-“

“You are a shame to my teachings. A failure,” Qui-Gon said. “But it’s alright. I forgive you. We can be together in death. Where you will never leave me again.”

The lightsabre carved its way upwards through Obi-Wan’s body and he screamed, his eyes squeezed just from the pain as the plasma blade cleaved through his flesh and—

He jerked back into wakefulness, his eyes refocussing on the same dark cell as before.

He was gasping shallowly, his body still feeling the panic from the hallucination even as his mind tried to calm it down.

Finally, he could breathe properly again—as much as he was able to lately at least—and exhausted his head tipped forward, causing the chains holding his arms above him to chime as they were jostled.

It had been seven days since he woke up after Dooku had knocked him out in his brief lapse in control. Seven days where his only company had been a bunch of torture droids, because apparently Dooku had left all of the Geonosians behind when he had abandoned ship—well, planet. On the other hand, droids at least couldn’t express any outward glee at the pain they inflicted. Unluckily they were also much better in precise workings and monitoring, allowing for lovely things like repeated drowning where they would always know just exactly how long they could leave him under water before his heart gave out.

Not that it mattered much now. It had been two days – at least he thought that it had been two days – since that particular brand of torture and by now exhaustion and sheer physical failing of his body were so all-encompassing that even pain and fear had lost their meaning. He was still unable to sleep, but his state of delirium mirrored the lack of response to any further outward stimuli just fine.

At least the issue of thirst had been taking care of when they had put him into the water tank and hunger wouldn’t kill him until at least one more tenday, but the infection he could feel setting in the festering whip marks across his back certainly could do so sooner, not to mention his body simply shutting down on its own once it decided that it had enough. Already he was running a fever, his skin feeling sometimes like it burned against the difference in temperature of the cold air. With the fever had come the hallucinations, each more unpleasant than the next.

It seemed like a huge waste of effort on part of his captor to let him die like this, but at this point he hadn’t had it in himself to mind it anymore. With the state his body was in, even with intensive bacta treatment convalescence would be difficult at the very least.

In any case, he was too tired and numb to care. Even if suddenly the door and the shackles would have been unlocked, he would still stay in his cell, simply because he would have been too weak to move. At least the pain had faded into the background hum sometime during yesterday, buzzing faintly but unable to touch his overexerted brain.

He only regretted that when he died he would be breaking his promise to Anakin, and to Qui-Gon. With Qui-Gon at least he was fairly certain that the man would be able to deal with his death. Anakin was an entirely different matter. Anakin, who latched on to people much too tightly and who had yet to learn how to let go. Maybe Qui-Gon would be able to curb the anger his padawan would surely explode in, something Obi-Wan himself had never really managed to train him out of. Just another of his failings as master in a long list. But Qui-Gon might be able to make up for some of them at least. It had been him who had been supposed to be Anakin’s master anyway, not some recently knighted Jedi who hadn’t even been able to deal with his own grief back then. During the dark months after the battle of Theed Obi-Wan had often thought about how it should have been him who fell under the Sith’s blade, and Qui-Gon who survived and lived on to teach Anakin – it seemed that morbid day dream was finally coming true after all, although ten years after it had been supposed to happen, and his death coming by the hand of a different Sith than he had imagined.

Faintly he registered the door opening but he didn’t bother looking up. No need to try to summon energy he didn’t have for a pointless effort. Instead he continued studying the blurry blood splatters on the white floor, watching the fresh drops that were dribbling from his lips join them in their attempt of turning the whole surface red.

The binders around his wrists were opened and his body pitched forward, caught by unyielding metal arms. Droids again then. He was dragged forward and distantly wondered what kind of torture was on the menu today. It didn’t really matter anyway. His whole body was like one great, open wound, and he was in pain no matter if he was actually tortured or not. If anything, torture alleviated the boredom that snuck up on him in his cell, whenever he was lucid enough to be aware of his surroundings.

It seemed a bit odd—he had expected the torture to be slower, subtler, more of taking him apart little piece by little piece. These methods were crude in comparison, causing a lot more pain but being ultimately less effective because in the end he just became numb. And by now any recovery attempts, even with using bacta and Force healing would take tendays to get him even near healthy again. Even then, with how long the wounds had been allowed to fester, his back would be a mess of scar tissue, and the bones of his legs didn’t stand all that much of a chance of knitting back together properly, not with the repeated resting and straining. The thought probably should have scared him more, but at this point he didn’t even have the energy for that left anymore.

The ground surface before him changed and he ventured the wild guess that they had entered a different room. Not the white tiles of one of the torture chambers, but dark green marble. The droids stopped and he took the opportunity to study the lighter lines running through the stone.

“Master Kenobi,” he heard from somewhere in front of him. Dooku. No need to bother to look up then. Under his scrutinizing gaze the lines seemed to shift like thin snakes in a hypnotizing pattern.

An invisible hand gripped his throat, yanking him up until his feet left the floor. The extra height put him at eye level with Dooku and on the receiving end of his glare.

“It is considered polite to at least look at the person addressing oneself,” Dooku said. If he had been able to, Obi-Wan would have told him just exactly what he thought of Dooku’s own politeness, but that wasn’t something his damaged vocal chords could manage at this time. What he did manage was a rasping cough and then blood filled his mouth and poured from his lips at the same time when breathing suddenly became even harder than before. Pierced lung, the small, still lucid part of him recognized. Dooku’s less gentle handling must have finally succeeded in shoving one of his broken ribs into one half of the essential organ. That explained the more insistent sharp stabbing pain in his chest then.

At least Dooku was forced to take a step back when a gush of blood splattered on the floor, so the conversation counted as a definite win in Obi-Wan’s book. Non-verbal communication at its finest.

Black enshrouded the corners of his vision. Distantly he was aware of the feeling of being carried and laid down and strapped onto a table. He didn’t understand why they bothered – the limitations of his failing body were holding him motionless just fine.

He gasped when the collar was wrenched off his neck. The extended period of time he had spent being blocked from the Force would have resulted in a massive mental backlash, had he been lucid enough to be aware of it. But now all that he felt of the Force was like a small trickle instead of the roaring current it should have been. Faintly he could feel the two bonds in his mind flare up, blossoming under the resurge of the Force like desert flowers in the rain. From what he could tell both Qui-Gon and Anakin were well, though his bond to Qui-Gon hadn’t recuperated enough for him to be sure. He would have wished to at least reach out to Anakin across their bond, to at least say goodbye, but that was well beyond his strength.

Outside, the Force screamed with wrongness and Darkness, tugging at his mind, but he was too tired to pay attention to it. With a sigh he released one last breath, his spirit beginning to blend into the hum of the universe, accepting and welcoming that he would finally be one with the Force when his heart stopped and his entire being felt at peace.

And then he was wrenched back, ripped out of the gentle, warm presence of the Force that had cradled his spirit, serenity replaced by the fear and pain of dying. He was in agony, he was in despair as his life was siphoned from his body, death spreading through his limbs like ice. He felt like he was drowning in the waves of emotions crashing in his head but he managed to surface long enough to realize that it was not him they were coming from, not his body that was being drained because his own body was becoming stronger, his breathing easier as the damage to his lung was healed.

He gasped, the physical instinct kicking in again as the lack of oxygen became more pronounced. The sudden influx of Force energy stopped. His senses flooded back to him, the touch of the cold table under his fingertips, the smell and taste of blood, the sound of crying and the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

He opened his eyes, blurry shapes congealing into sharp outlines. Above him stood Dooku, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim light.

“Master Kenobi, did you really think I would simply let you die like this?” he asked, an eerie smile on his face. The Force was flitting around him like a dark shadow, jagged at the edges and jarring at Obi-Wan’s mind with its utter wrongness. This wasn’t what had been supposed to happen. Something been shifted in the order of life, turning the soft hum of the Force into sharp discord.

“What did you do?” Obi-Wan asked, or tried to, but his voice was damaged enough that he was more mouthing the words than actually turning them into sounds.

Dooku’s smile widened. “I saved you from the brink of death, of course. A bit of gratefulness wouldn’t go amiss.” Obi-Wan glared at him, his fury momentarily overriding the horror he felt. “We’re not through yet anyway. About a dozen more and your injuries should be fully healed.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asked hoarsely, the word sounding akin to scrunching glass.

“You see, Master Kenobi, the old superstition that Sith cannot heal is not entirely accurate. While we are indeed unable to expend our own Force energy on other beings, using that of others is an entirely different matter. It allows us to combine the ability to drain the life from others with giving it to ones we consider… more worthy of it.”

Dooku stepped aside and allowed Obi-Wan to finally look upon what was behind him.

MagnaGuards, three rows of them, and in each of their graspers they were holding a youngling. All kinds of species, but none of them could be any older than twelve. There was only one droid whose arms were empty and Obi-Wan looked down to see the crumbled form of a small Rodian, lying collapsed on its side, its star-sky-like eyes blank and unseeing.

“The process is quite inefficient, as you see,” he could hear Dooku say over the roaring in his ears. “I hadn’t even started working on your broken ribs when that one died, even though this technique is supposed to work best the younger the donors are.”

Words failed him when he realized just what Dooku had done – and what he was about to do. The Sith reached for him and Obi-Wan flinched when his fingertips came to rest on his sternum, straining feebly against the restraints that wouldn’t let him budge an inch.

“No no no, don’t—” he cried out before he was enveloped in Force energy once more. Having lived through it once didn’t make the experience any less horrific, if anything it was even worse than the first time as he was fully aware of what was happening, whose slow and excruciating death he could feel in his mind as if it were his own. It echoed inside him even when the energy subsided, a hollow, ringing feeling intermingled by his own grief at the needless killing.

“Empathy can be such a cruel thing,” Dooku mused, one finger tapping gently against Obi-Wan’s heaving chest. “Such a highly esteemed ability of the Jedi when in the end all it does is bring pain to the one who employs it.”

“This needn’t be so unpleasant, you know,” Dooku continued. “If you would stop struggling against it and freely take the Force energy from them… they never would’ve been special anyway, they aren’t even remotely Force sensitive. At least like this they had some usefulness in their death.”

“Every life is precious,” Obi-Wan said between his strained breaths. “It is not our right to place value to it.”

“The weak submit to the strong,” Dooku said coldly, “So that the strong may reign and create order in the galaxy.” And once more he brought the Force to bear.

He started crying when the sixth child died, a final restraint inside in him breaking when the small Togruta girl fell to the floor, her frail body unmoving, tear tracks streaking his bloodied face. Dooku didn’t care, not even reacting when he started to plead and beg, his sobs becoming more desperate with every further death.

He had turned silent by the time Dooku finally deemed his work finished, raising his hand from Obi-Wan’s chest, no further sound echoing through the room saved for his hitched, wet breaths. Three younglings were still alive, at least until Dooku motioned for the MagnaGuards and the sound of three thin necks breaking could be heard.

“Hush now,” Dooku said gently, one hand reaching out to cradle Obi-Wan’s cheek, the thumb brushing the tears away. “You did well. Sleep.” And Obi-Wan’s eyes slipped close, too exhausted to even think about trying to resist the Force suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child death(/murder)


	12. Chapter 12

Obi-Wan woke up, and to his surprise found himself in a small, but not uncomfortable bed instead of the cell and chains he had become so familiar with. No windows, one locked door, white walls and a light fixture on the ceiling. Beside that and the bed there was nothing else in the room.

Sitting up in the bed he took stock of himself. The blood and grime that had clung to him like a second skin before had been washed off and he had been clad in white tunics. When he touched his face he noticed that someone had shaved off his beard and cut his hair, short enough that it barely brushed the top of his ears. There probably hadn’t been much more to save from the tangled, filthy mess it had been.

And he was unharmed. No more lingering pain, no barely healing cuts and breaks and burns, but whole, unmarred skin. He tucked the sleeves of the tunic up enough to take a look at his wrists that had been rubbed raw from the shackles and found that no mark remained.

No evidence had been left over from the torture and he would have doubted his own mind hadn’t the horrors of his healing still been so vivid in it. Bile rose in his throat as the memories pushed and tore at him, stealing his breath and making him shake even as he tried to do his best to shove them back.

Nothing else he had endured at Dooku’s hands, direct or indirect, had made him come apart like this. How ironic that in the hands of the Sith healing could become a torture worse than inflicting the injuries that were being mended.

Forcing himself to take steady breaths he eventually calmed down enough to unfold from where he had curled in on himself. _Emotion, yet peace_ , he silently whispered to himself. Bracing himself, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

And immediately crashed to the ground when the sharp pain of broken bones shot through his legs and made them give out under him. Panicking, he ripped up the fabric of the pants, revealing unblemished skin over straight, aligned bones that didn’t shift even as he pressed his hand against it, staying stubbornly unbroken.

“That would be phantom pain you are currently feeling,” a voice said from his side and he scrambled up to see Dooku standing in the room before the door, watching him with mild interest as Obi-Wan had to brace a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling again.

“Apparently the rapid healing doesn’t sit well with the mental understanding of the body,” Dooku continued nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t last more than a few hours, until your mind learns to accept the state of your body again.”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, merely held himself still where he was standing even as his heart beat out a staccato rhythm.

“Now then,” Dooku said, clasping his hands. “Onwards to new things.” He took one step towards Obi-Wan and he bodily flinched, drawing back just enough for his back to hit the wall behind him.

“Oh?” Dooku tilted his head ever so slightly, mouth stretching into a smug grin. “Is this finally fear of me I sense in you, Master Kenobi?”

“I’ve been fearing you ever since we met on Geonosis, Dooku,” Obi-Wan hissed back. “Only a fool would be unafraid of the carnage and destruction you would cause if you weren’t stopped.”

“Quite,” Dooku said, and then, faster than Obi-Wan could blink, he advanced, diving into his space until Obi-Wan had to press himself against the wall to avoid contact, the expression on Dooku’s face making him look every bit the Sith he was, his eyes blazing golden. “But there is more than one kind of fear, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything but stare up at where Dooku was towering over him, frozen to the spot like a prey finding itself face to face with its predator, unable to move even as his mind screamed at him to fight back, to do _something_.

After a moment Dooku drew back, the cold power that had surrounded him drawing back behind his shields to be replaced by pleased satisfaction. Obi-Wan slowly peeled himself off of the wall, the bitter taste of defeat heavy in his mouth.

“Still, I have to admit that your displayed… resistance is admiring to watch,” Dooku said. “Even if I cannot quite understand what you hope will happen aside from your torture lasting even longer.”

“I know that my friends will keep on looking for me no matter how long it takes,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “I will not do their efforts injustice by giving up.”

Dooku raised an eyebrow. “How… cliché of you.” Obi-Wan evenly met his eyes, not rising to the petty mockery.

“As amusing as this is, I came here for something else,” Dooku finally said, reaching inside his robe and pulled something out that looked like a long string of small, thin metal sticks, each of them about two inches long, tied together by a thin metal wire. Despite its innocent appearance it seemed to fairly drip with Darkness.

Only when Dooku held the thing up and the elements separated did Obi-Wan recognize that the sticks weren’t as simple and identical as he had thought, but formed distinct letters from the Sith alphabet.

“And what is that?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice steady despite the unsettlement he felt inside.

“I suppose one could call it the finishing touch before the finale,” Dooku said. The metal letters clinked as he let the string slide through his hand. “I had been planning on waiting a while more before doing this, but things have been accelerated beyond the constructed schedule.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Obi-Wan said, even as the unsettlement became more pronounced.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough what it does,” Dooku said. He raised his free hand, fingers reaching out and then curling in on themselves. The Force grip closed around Obi-Wan, lifting him off his feet and bringing him directly before Dooku. This time he struggled as survival instinct overrode the panic, first physically and then with the Force, lashing out violently against the hold but making no dent with his currently meagre strength.

Dooku made no motion to show that he even felt the attempts at resistance, instead levitating the chain string, lifting it up and forming it into a wide, perfect circle around Obi-Wan’s neck before he let it settle down, the cold chain links coming to rest on his shoulders, running over his collar bones and shoulder blades.

Dooku reached out to him, one finger hovering just above the chain link that was lying below the hollow dip between his collar bones. Small sparks formed between Dooku’s fingertip and the metal, rapidly warming up the small piece beyond bearable temperatures until it was glowing red, branding the skin underneath. Obi-Wan grit his teeth against the pain and the nauseating smell of his own burning flesh, both of which got worse when the sparks jumped to the adjacent letters, continuing their destructive path.

They had reached the crest of his shoulders when Obi-Wan noticed that the terrible, cloying feeling settling inside his head didn’t originate from a reaction to the pain but the Dark Side of the Force that was wrapping itself around his body and his mind. By the time the link opposite to the starting one had burned itself into his skin it felt like a vice had been clamped around his head, causing a throbbing pain between his temples.

“Nearly finished,” Dooku muttered, his hand reaching up to Obi-Wan’s head, pressing his thumb against the centre of his forehead. It was the only warning he got before Dooku dove into his mind, the first layer of his shielding that had been left in tatters following his healing being brushed aside like it were nothing more than cobwebs.

Hastily he retreated deeper into his own mind, reinforcing the shields as he went and slamming new ones into place as the upper layers were torn down. They reached a temporary stalemate as Dooku’s Force probe continued to hammer against his shields, cracking and destroying them at the same rate that Obi-Wan was building the new ones. But already he was beginning to lose ground, the continuous effort simply not sustainable with his currently small reserves and weak grasp on the Force, while Dooku was well rested and had the whole might of the Dark Side at his disposal, which was much more powerful than the Light Side when it came to ruthless mind invasions.

He couldn’t win this. Physical torture at least could be endured, but a mental attack left much deeper wounds, and he didn’t even know what Dooku’s end goal with this was. Previous experience led him to think that he really didn’t want to find out. There was no search for information, no attempt to implant a Force suggestion, but merely a brute barrage of strikes that destroyed whatever it came across. When his shielding inevitably failed, the result of such a direct attack on his own mind wouldn’t end pretty—coma and insanity would be two of the kinder possible outcomes.

With no other option left, Obi-Wan opted for retreat, taking his consciousness deep inside his own mind, away from his own body and the outside world until he was nestled deep inside his own Force presence, surrounded by its calming waves that circulated around him. This was his very own place in the galaxy, his anchoring point in the Force, the wellspring of his sense of self that no one but him could touch unless they began to tear down the very fabric of reality.

Without his presence keeping the shields up, they fell under the onslaught in a matter of seconds. But by now there was nothing that lay behind them anymore, not when he had retracted as far away from his body as was possible without dying. He could feel Dooku’s presence wrapping itself around him, circling his retreat like a predator watching the den its prey had slipped into.

 _It seems we are at a stalemate_ , he projected into the Force, knowing that Dooku would hear him.

 _It seems, yes,_ Dooku said, but there was none of that underlying frustration Obi-Wan had expected, instead smug satisfaction. Around him, the Force seized, its gentle waves replaced by a shrill and pointless warning. A surge of dark energy rose, not coming from Dooku as he had anticipated, but carrying an even darker, older signature. Even as removed from the physical world as he was, he could feel the letters on his skin light up, transcending from his body into his mind and slamming into place around his retreat like prison bars, cutting him completely off from everything but his very own tiny bright spot in the Force.

They didn’t budge no matter how much he threw himself against them, standing still like black pillars amidst the light of the Force.

 _Don’t worry,_ Dooku said, apparently noticing his increasingly frantic struggles, _I don’t intend to keep you here for longer than a few days._

 _Then what is the purpose of this!?_ Obi-Wan hissed, panic overshadowed by anger.

 _We’ll be having visitors on this planet very soon,_ Dooku said, _and it is just fitting that they are to be greeted accordingly. Bodies without an inherent spirit to protect them are laughably easy to control after all. How do you think Qui-Gon will react when his beloved former padawan stabs him through the chest?_

Shock, followed by terror, washed over Obi-Wan like ice-water. _I-I thought you wanted to keep Qui-Gon alive._

 _Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made,_ Dooku said. His words were cold, but there was an undercurrent to them that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite decipher.

 _No, they don’t_ , Obi-Wan answered, bewildered. _You don’t have to do this!_

Dooku paused, and Obi-Wan desperately seized the opportunity to continue talking.

 _I know that you still love Qui-Gon_ , Obi-Wan said, trying to choose his words carefully. _Just as I do. I cannot condone what you have done, but I can see that you were trying to protect him when you took him on Naboo. Do you think that you will feel less guilt over killing him merely because it wasn’t you who held the blade?_

 _I did not think you so naïve that you would still believe all the pretty lies I told you during the first few days_ , Dooku sneered.

 _If you truly wanted Qui-Gon as your pawn, then why isn’t he standing beside you right now?_ Obi-Wan asked quietly. _You had ten years. Why didn’t you use them?_

Dooku stayed silent.

_You couldn’t bring yourself to do the same things to him as you did to me, couldn’t you? Qui-Gon wouldn’t have bent to your will either, so if you truly wanted him to follow you, you would have had to burn away everything that made him who he is. In the end you would have been left with just as much of your padawan as if you had killed him._

_It doesn’t matter_ , said Dooku. _All of what you said is in the past now._

 _Then what has changed?_ Obi-Wan asked. _You kept him safe for ten years and now you suddenly want to kill him?_

Anger welled up within Dooku, scorching heat that flared up as if Obi-Wan had thrown a match into a tank of gasoline. _Yes, I kept him safe,_ Dooku snarled. _And I would have continued to do so, hadn’t you messed everything up!_

 _Because I gave him the means to his escape?_ Obi-Wan snapped.

_Because your actions brought him into the crosshairs of my Master!_

_And that’s enough to make you kill Qui-Gon? I don’t understand how you can just—_

_No_ , Dooku cut him off, his mental voice the equivalent to shouting. _You do not understand anything!_

The sudden onslaught of Dooku’s rage swept Obi-Wan off his proverbial feet and dragged him under.

 

He is in a dark room with no windows. A holo-communicator dominates the centre, humming faintly. A blue figure appears, hooded, its face lying in the shadows. The angle of the view changes as he goes down on one knee.

“Darth Tyrannus,” the figure says. The voice is slightly distorted, but still distinguishable as human and male. Even though it is only a hologram, Obi-Wan can feel Force energy crackling around the device, dripping with Darkness but also strangely familiar.

Dooku is trying to drag him back, away from the memory, but Obi-Wan does what he could always do best, to stand his ground and refuse to be moved. Mental connections are always a two-way street, and Obi-Wan is certainly not going to let this slip in Dooku’s shields go to waste.

Even with his best efforts the memory is already starting to fragment, blinking from second to second like a fast-forwarded holo-vid.

“…is most unfortunate…” “…see you fail…” “…advantage out of…” “…you will not…” “…Order disrupt…” “…Jinn cannot…” “…surely there is…”

_“Kill him or I will tear him apart myself.”_

 

Abruptly the memory ended, leaving Obi-Wan reeling. He could feel Dooku’s shield shutter over the crack the memory had slipped through, preventing anything else from leaking out.

 _That’s it?_ He cried out disbelievingly. _You are going to kill Qui-Gon just because your new master told you so?_

 _You fool, you have no idea what he can do,_ Dooku hissed. _What the sheer scope of his influence is. I am trying to show Qui-Gon_ mercy _._

_So you aren’t even going to try to fight? You wield all this power and you still give up like this?_

_That is not—_

_Qui-Gon still loves you,_ Obi-Wan said. _No matter how much he may come to despise you because of what you have done, he will keep loving you and he will keep trying to save you. Just as he did with Xanatos, until the very end. The future isn’t set in stone, you can still turn back from the dark side, and if you do, Qui-Gon will do everything in his power to help you._

There was a long silence. Obi-Wan didn’t dare utter another word, knowing that he had said everything that possibly could be said, and now the decision was in Dooku’s hands, the Light and the Dark inside of him fighting until one would gain the upper hand. It felt like even the Force itself had paused in its eternal stream, waiting with baited breath to see the outcome the battle that might tip the fate of an entire galaxy.

The balance tipped.

 _No,_ Dooku said, and the Light inside of him collapsed in on itself.

_Dooku—_

_If what you say is true, then Qui-Gon is a fool. I will not engage in the same kind of stupidity. You may be right that some part of me still loves Qui-Gon, but there is no place for this kind of weakness inside me anymore. And I will eradicate it by killing him._

The Dark inside him boiled, no longer held at bay by the last bits of Light, and Obi-Wan felt like he was choking on it.

_I have come this far, and I will not turn around and let it be for nothing. After all the sacrifices I have made, I will see this through, no matter the cost._

_Sadly you will not be able to see everything first hand while you’re in this state_ , Dooku continued again, his voice and Force presence cold as ice. _But I have been assured that the memories will come back over time once the block is removed._

 _But—why?_ Obi-Wan cried out, abandoning decorum and hammering against the walls of his prison as Dooku slowly slipped out of his reach.

 _I will see you broken,_ Dooku said, and Obi-Wan recoiled _. And if the blood of the master you love so much won’t be enough to drown you, there are still plenty of other Jedi I can make you kill._

 _They won’t fall for this,_ Obi-Wan said, trying to sound confident. _This charade you’re setting up, they won’t believe it. Qui-Gon won’t believe it._

_Because there is nothing that might make you hate Qui-Gon. Like the circumstances of your knighting, just to take an example._

_I know how much my Master can be blind to anything beyond his current focus,_ Obi-Wan replied stubbornly. _I’ve made my peace with what happened that day years ago._

 _Oh, I am well aware_ Dooku said, a smirk in his voice. _Otherwise I would have already tried to use it against you. But Qui-Gon does not. I even daresay he has yet to realize how hurtful his actions were. But soon he will have you to tell him in great detail. And for the rest… everyone breaks under torture. And it wouldn’t be much a stretch to presume that you harbour a grudge against the Order. You know this. The Jedi know this. This is merely… advancing an inevitable event. And Qui-Gon dying at your hands will do well to cement their belief._

 _No_ , Obi-Wan said frantically. _No nonono, don’t—_ But Dooku’s presence was already gone, slipping out of his grasp as the Sith letters around him shuffled to close the one small gap to the outside that had still been left, leaving him imprisoned alone in his own mind. There was nothing he could do but wait and dread whatever view might greet him when he opened his eyes again.

  
*

Dooku opened his eyes, taking in the still form standing before him. The normally so brilliant green-blue eyes had turned dull, their gaze unfocused and empty instead of being filled with the defiance and determination that used to spark in them. 

_Kneel_ , Dooku commanded and the figure lowered itself in one fluid motion, rescinding none of the admirable grace even without the spirit there to lead the body. The sight of Kenobi kneeling before him was intoxicating, sending a heady rush of satisfaction through him at the knowledge that he had the other man at his beck and call. It would be much more glorious once Kenobi followed him in spirit as well as in body, but for now he could be patient.

Crouching down so they could be at eye level, Dooku reached out to cradle one cheek in his hand and tip the bowed head upward, a thumb stroking over the lips and the high cheek bone that was dusted ever so faintly with freckles. There was no reaction to his touch, pliancy having taken the place of the usual spitfire.

Kenobi would make a fine apprentice once he finally submitted, Dooku thought, absentmindedly carding his fingers through the soft, copper hair. The first cracks had already been starting to show in his composure – having Qui-Gon die at his hands would ensure significant progress.

Saving Qui-Gon had been a mistake, his act of whisking his former padawan away motivated by sentimentality, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it had just been for the advantages of having a Jedi master in his belongings. As the years had gone by, Sidious’ teachings had enabled him to recognize this kind of weakness for what it was, though he had continued to keep Qui-Gon’s survival secret from his master. It wouldn’t do for the Sith master to know all of his secrets. Sidious might have set his eyes on Skywalker but Dooku had higher goals than some rash brat. A true master was measured by mastery of the self, not in terms of raw but uncontrolled power. No matter how strong Skywalker might be in terms of his pure Force energy, he would never achieve the level of control Kenobi held over his own.

Now all that was left to do was to sacrifice the chess pawn to gain a queen. Such a fitting parallel - Sith lords achieved their rank by killing their master as well.

“Come,” he said, rising up. “We have preparations to make.”


	13. Chapter 13

San-Ver was a small yellow planet, out of the way of every major hyperspace lane and due to the high sulphur content in the ground rather uninhabitable, as water and grown food had to be extensively purified before it could be eaten. A small colony had been established decades ago, but was mostly populated by scientists who studying the planets geography. Natural gas had eroded the surface of the planet, creating an extensive system of caverns, the majority of which were unmapped and susceptible to sudden cave-ins.

Hopefully, San-Ver would finally be the end of their search.

The last few days had been tense, ever since Anakin had suddenly collapsed on their small ship, his Force signature radiating despair and Darkness. It had taken Qui-Gon a moment to realise that the emotions weren’t coming from the boy himself, but were merely an echo of his bond. It had taken a longer time of shouting and calming Force techniques until he could help Anakin differentiate between his own mind and the backlash.

“I felt him die,” Anakin had whispered, making Qui-Gon feel as if his own heart had stopped before the padawan continued. “He- he was reaching out through the bond, I think, and then he was gone, but… he came back in the next moment? I think? But something- something was wrong, very wrong, but I don’t know what.”

“But you can feel him now?” Qui-Gon had gently asked and Anakin had nodded, the shaking subsiding a bit. “That’s the most important thing then. As long as there’s life, there’s hope.”

Anakin had released a trembling breath. “I think I know which direction we need to move in.”

So they had begun system hopping with a surer path, using Anakin’s Force sense to determine their next step. They had already been close – there was no way that it would have worked otherwise. It had still taken them days until they had reached San-Ver, their scans finding an unusually high amount of artificial electro-magnetic fields that was characteristic for droid and spaceship technology, but not for a planet that was supposed to only have a small colony with a thousand inhabitants.

The Council had responded quickly, assuring them that they would send a small squadron of Jedi hand-picked by Master Tholme, with none of them having participated in the Geonosis mission, for security reasons. Qui-Gon, who remembered that Garen, one of Obi-Wan’s best friends, had been among the ones who had volunteered for that first mission, imagined that not everyone had been happy about that decision. 

The wait for the squadron to arrive at their position had been a difficult test of patience for both Qui-Gon and Anakin. Although Qui-Gon had been pleasantly surprised that Anakin hadn’t taken any steps towards initiating a solo attack, even if he had grumbled a lot about the slowness of bureaucracy. It definitely was an improvement from when they had been in a similar situation on Naboo. He wondered if it might have been Mace’s behaviour and unexpected extension of faith towards Anakin on Geonosis that had motivated the change.

In any case, now they were finally ready to make their move as the Jedi ships came out of hyperspace. There wasn’t much left to do for preparation – they had already planned the assault via hologram, so the moment they got the all clear Anakin pressed down the yoke, their small ship diving down to the planet below while Qui-Gon hurried to get into his seat before the gravitational atmosphere would override the artificial gravity of the ship.

Qui-Gon, with his definite lack of an affinity to the Unifying Force, had never been prone to judging a mission prior to its undertaking, but everything he felt at the moment was as close as having ‘bad feeling’ screamed into his face by the Force as he’d ever come in his life. Not that it mattered – they certainly weren’t going to stop now, and they were already aware that they would not receive a warm welcome. Such vague and unnecessary warnings were the exact reason for his scepticism towards Force premonition.

If things proceeded even only halfway according to plan he wouldn’t have to engage the Sith his former master had become anyway. Yoda had accompanied the Jedi fleet, much to Qui-Gon’s surprise who couldn’t even really recall the last time Yoda had left the Temple. At least with the grandmaster as the one to face Dooku in battle, he wouldn’t have to worry about any more Jedi losing their lives. And if there was even the slightest chance left that Dooku might be convinced to step away from the Dark Side, Yoda, as his former master, might be able to work a small miracle.

He wanted badly to believe that there was still good in his former master, but after feeling the aftereffects of what Obi-Wan had been put through at the hands of the Sith, first through their mental connection and then through Anakin as proxy, he wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving, no matter how un-Jedi-like that might make him at the moment. Still, he would prefer if he didn’t have to find out whether he would really be able to raise his blade against his former master or not.

They entered the atmosphere, speeding towards the surface at breakneck speed. Qui-Gon briefly entertained the thought of how Obi-Wan, who had taken after his master when it came to their attitude towards flying, had dealt with Anakin’s obvious affinity for piloting. Nonetheless, it certainly came in handy when they reached the range of the air defence system that had been built into the small crooks of the ragged rock formations.

It was obviously military grade, but no match for a group of Jedi pilots. Leaving a bunch of ruined, smoking turrets behind, the ships landed in the open cave entrance.

“To stay on the ground, much preferable it still is,” Yoda grumbled as he hopped out of the fighter that had landed next to them, Knight Vos following him, who was trying and failing to hide a smug grin, though he made sure it only showed on his face when Yoda’s back was turned towards him.

“Find Dooku, I will,” Yoda said to the eight assembled Jedi. “Search for Knight Kenobi, you must.” And with that he was off, moving much faster than his deceptively diminutive appearance led most to believe.

Without further ado, the rest split into groups of two, dashing off into the tunnels. Qui-Gon only exchanged a brief glance with Vos, who had paired up with a Knight he didn’t know, until he followed Anakin who was already sprinting ahead. The rest of the Jedi had been unsure if the padawan would be able to accurately pinpoint the location of someone who’s Force signature had been hidden and opted for a more general search, but Qui-Gon was certain of Anakin’s abilities. Once the boy had found a way, he adopted a nearly frightening single-mindedness, all of his attention focussed on achieving his goal, which could be extremely useful when it came to utilizing it in regards to Force skills.

The cave system swallowed them whole. Dim sunlight sometimes found its way through convoluted cracks in the rocks, sometimes only phosphorescent stone and their own lightsabres illuminated the way. It was dead silent, safe for the sound of their own steps and breathing and it all but seemed as if the caves and tunnels were deserted. But the Force kept prodding at them, urging them to keep going even as it warned of danger and Darkness.

Only years of training kept him from flinching when a scream broke the thick silence. Instinctively Anakin and he moved so they were standing back to back, lightsabres raised in defence. But there was nothing moving in the shadows, no opponent suddenly charging at them with their weapon of choice brandished in their direction.

He could feel Anakin tense at his back when another scream echoed through the tunnel and it was only then that he realised that it wasn’t the battle cry of an attacker, but of one being attacked, the sound full of anguish and pain.

“Master,” Anakin breathed, and then he took off running into the direction the sound was coming from.

“Anakin, wait!” Qui-Gon called out, even as he sprinted after him, his long legs gaining him enough of an advantage to catch up on him. “Anakin, it’s a trap!” he shouted.

 “I know!” Anakin shouted back, not slowing down in the slightest, his face pale with barely masked rage. The sound of the next scream felt as if it tore itself through Qui-Gon’s own heart. He wished he could halt and clamp his hands over his ears when the cries turned into broken sobs, interspersed by softly whispered pleas.

The tunnel opened into a hall, Anakin barrelling in first with Qui-Gon right behind him. The moment they were inside ray shields slammed down around them, encasing both of them in separate bubbles. The screams went silent, leaving only a disturbing, quietening echo behind. Beside him, Anakin started to bang against the shields, but Qui-Gon knew that it was useless to try and break through them, even with their lightsabres. Instead he focussed ahead.

In the middle of the room, about ten metres away from them, stood a figure, clad into a black cloak, their face shadowed by the hood. Qui-Gon couldn’t get a clear read on their signature, but the way the Force swirled around them was enough of a tell, jagged and sharp edges protruding from what should’ve been a fluid stream, like it had been broken and pierced together wrong. The intense presence spoke of great power, but also great Darkness.

“Well, hello there,” the person spoke in a voice that was all too familiar and Qui-Gon felt the blood in his veins turn to liquid ice. _Oh Force no, please no_ , he thought frantically even as the figure slowly reached for the hood, lifting it to reveal the face that was so beloved by him. But the edges were sharper than he had known them, the cheekbones more defined, the stubbly padawan cut grown out into red-gold hair.

And the eyes, irises glowing with a sickly yellow that sharply contrasted with the dark bruises sleep deprivation and exhaustion had left under the eyes even when he seemed unharmed otherwise.

“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone bland, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, face unreadable. Qui-Gon suddenly found himself unable to speak, words disappearing water under Tattooine’s suns.

Anakin, ever the determined one, regained his voice first. “We came here to rescue you,” he said, the firm words swinging with uncertainty in face of this unsettling appearance.

“Why?”

Next to him Anakin seemed just as taken aback, his brow furrowing in stunned confusion.

“Why?” Obi-Wan repeated. “What is it you want from me?”

“We don’t want anything from you,” Qui-Gon said, taking half a step forward, as much as the shields would allow.

“Really,” Obi-Wan interrupted him before he could continue, drawling the word sarcastically. “Then why else did you come? I thought you would be happy to finally get rid of me.”

“What are you talking about?” Anakin cried out. “Of course not!”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Oh come on Anakin. It’s such a perfect narrative – the Chosen One and his predestined master, finally reunited. There’s no need for me to act as stand-in anymore.”

“What—stand-in?” Anakin asked disbelievingly. “You are my master and that’s not—”

“Am I, really?” Obi-Wan interjected, effectively shutting Anakin up. “You certainly have an interesting way of showing it.”

“I—” Anakin looked downwards, “I know I haven’t always been as respectful as I should’ve been when I was younger, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Not as respectful?” Obi-Wan repeated quietly. “That seems like a light way of putting it.” He took out a small audio recorder and pressed a button.

Anakin’s voice filled the hall. _“Although I'm a Padawan learner, in some ways... a lot of ways... I'm ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it too. He believes I'm too unpredictable...”_

 _“That must be frustrating,”_ a voice Qui-Gon recognized as Padmé’s answered, obviously trying to be diplomatic.

 _“It's worse,”_ the recorded Anakin continued, _“he's overly critical. He never listens! He just doesn't understand! It's not fair!”_

The recording cut off. Next to him Anakin has gone stock-still. “How-how did you get that?” he asks.

Obi-Wan’s face hardens. “The correct answer would’ve been ‘This is obviously a fake I can’t believe you thought it was real’. But thank you for clearing that up. If you must know, Dooku was so… kind as to give this to me and I didn’t ask because I was too busy bleeding out.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean what I said—not like that,” Anakin said, wincing.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so you didn’t mean to deride me in front of a powerful Senator, whom I also just happened to consider a friend, effectively throwing everything I tried to teach you back into my face, every time I took care of you, supported you and defended you in front of the other Jedi and the Council, is it that?” Anakin seemed to shrink with every word.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon started, unable to stand aside any longer. Eerie yellow eyes honed in on him, narrowing in annoyance.

“You wait your turn,” Obi-Wan hissed with such ferocity that Qui-Gon nearly took a step back. “We’re not finished here yet.” He looked back at Anakin, who at least seemed to have drawn himself up a bit again. “So really, my first question still stands. Why bother coming here when you were so busy frolicking with your revered Padmé on Naboo?”

“We didn’t—”

“Or did she finally reject you?” Obi-Wan continued. “You are aware that she is just humouring you, right?” Anakin’s free hand was twisting into a tight fist but he couldn’t get a word in. “She used to be a queen after all. What do you think she’s going to see in you?”

“Stop,” Anakin whispered but Obi-Wan carried on as if he hadn’t heard him.

“At best you’re some kind of pity case for her, the desperate boy lacking the self-control and awareness to cease his futile advances.”

“Stop it,” Anakin said quietly, the grip on his lightsabre turning white knuckled.

“In the end she’ll never see you as anything than a former slave boy.” An ugly smirk split his former padawan’s face. “Or maybe she is hoping to make use of certain… skills you might have picked up back on Tattooine?”

“NO!” Anakin roared, the shields around both of them exploding from his sheer Force power and he charged at Obi-Wan before Qui-Gon could hold him back. He could see the brief flash of a satisfied grin on his face before his former padawan raised his hand and lightning ruptured from his fingertips, seizing Anakin and throwing him against the side wall where he sank to the floor, motionless.

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon called out, running to the prone form and turning him onto his back. His eyes were closed, but his breathing and heartbeat were regular, the only visible damage the singed clothing and a shallowly bleeding wound on his head that must have been responsible for knocking him out, but through the Force seemed mostly innocuous.

“No need to worry,” Obi-Wan said. “It takes much longer until actual damage starts to appear. Trust me, I’d know.”

Qui-Gon stood up, turning towards the other man. “How could you do this, Obi-Wan?” he asked, distraught. “Hurting your own padawan like this—”

“Oh come on, he was practically asking for it,” Obi-Wan sneered.

“You provoked him!”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “And if he actually took some of the Jedi teachings to heart it would’ve been completely ineffective.” He looked at the unconscious Anakin with disappointment. “Who knows, maybe pain will be the better teacher.”

“What happened to you?” Qui-Gon whispered. He couldn’t believe that his warm-hearted, caring apprentice could have become someone so blasé about inflicting pain onto others.

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment, then broke into humourless laughter. “Did you really just ask me that?” he said, then waved with the recorder in his hand. “You could listen to it all, but I don’t have the time to stand around here for the days that would require.” With his free hand he reached into his robes, pulling out a lightsabre. It ignited with a blood-red blade, painting his face with its eerie glow.

“Please Obi-Wan, you don’t have to do this,” Qui-Gon pleaded. “Just come with us, we can help you.”

“Help me?” Obi-Wan repeated, eyes narrowing. “If you wanted to help me, where were you then when they whipped me? Branded me? Cut me open and let me bleed? Broke every bone in my body? Where were you when they pieced me back together just so they could start anew?” The last words were roared with a ferocity that made Qui-Gon flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon whispered, his head hanging down. “If there had been any way to save you earlier—”

“You mean like when you knew that I was being held on Geonosis for over a tenday and proceeded to do absolutely nothing?”

“We couldn’t!” Qui-Gon cried out. “We would’ve started a galactic war. The Council ordered us to wait until—”

“Ah yes, and you have always been so good at following the orders of the Council,” Obi-Wan said. “Such a convenient excuse. But then you were probably glad to finally be rid of me, weren’t you? Getting the placeholder out of the way so you could finally become the Chosen One’s master, hm?”

“No, Obi-Wan you know I wouldn’t do that!”

“Really? Why, I can remember an astonishing similar situation where you had absolutely no qualms about throwing your substitute padawan to the side for someone else.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon said sadly. “I never meant to—I should’ve proposed you for the trials months before but I-I kept telling myself that there were still things I should teach you, fooling myself that it was for any other reason but keeping you at my side for a bit longer. When I found Anakin, I knew that I had to stop lying to myself if I wanted to give him the chance to become a Jedi and fulfill his destiny.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a few long moments and hope was beginning to stir inside Qui-Gon that he might have finally gotten through to his padawan, when suddenly he burst into sharp laughter.

“Oh, what a pretty story,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “Do you really think I’ll believe that?”

Qui-Gon only narrowly managed to turn on his own lightsabre when Obi-Wan charged at him, the red blade clashing against his green one with enough force that his arms jarred at the impact.

“I’ve had enough of listening to your lies,” Obi-Wan hissed, his yellow eyes boring into Qui-Gon’s over their crossed blades. He unleashed a flurry of attacks onto Qui-Gon, forcing him into the defence and backwards.

“Obi-Wan, please, I don’t want to hurt you!” Qui-Gon yelled over the loud humming of their lightsabres.

An eerie grin settled upon Obi-Wan’s face. “How lucky that I don’t have such stupid qualms then.”  He drew his lightsabre upward, cutting through the air mere centimetres away from Qui-Gon’s throat who pushed himself backwards and then had to jump away when Obi-Wan brought the blade down upon where he had been standing.

“You don’t have to do this,” Qui-Gon said, taking a step back for every step Obi-Wan advanced, keeping his distance. “I can understand your hatred towards me, but you don’t have to become a Sith! Come back to the Order, come home, I beg you.”

“The Order hasn’t been my home in a very long time, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan sneered. “Not since they branded me a failure and shipped me to Bandomeer. All I ever did was give and give, doing what I had been told to do, following your and the Council’s every whim. And look where it has gotten me!” He swept his arms out in a wide gesture. “You don’t know how it has been while I trained Anakin, how everyone watched my every move like hawks, waiting for me to stumble just so they could confirm the doubts they already saw as certainties anyway. Each time Anakin would act up it would be me who had to answer before the Council, who would get verbally flayed by them. None of them ever reached out and offered a helping hand, all they did was judge from their high and mighty seats, watching me struggle. Only now that Anakin’s nearly a knight and his power proven do they act like I’ve done them a huge fucking favour when all they’ve done was to use me to gain a more powerful pawn, so that they could finally discard me!”

“Obi-Wan, that’s not true, everyone has been worried about you ever since—”

“Oh, shut up,” Obi-Wan hissed. “Like you didn’t do the exact same thing to me! You knew I would have done everything for you and you abused that trust to saddle someone who hadn’t even been knighted yet to train one of the most powerful beings in a century, just so you could get your final _fuck you_ to the Council.”

“I—” Qui-Gon started, but he knew that Obi-Wan wouldn’t listen to any more of his apologies, no matter how earnest they might be. He had to take another venture. “But isn’t Dooku doing the same thing to you? You can’t believe that he wants you for anything but your power!”

“Oh, I am fully aware,” Obi-Wan said. “But he at least is upfront about it. And I don’t care as long as I can finally get retribution for the past two fucking decades.” He charged at Qui-Gon once again, re-engaging them in their deadly dance.

Qui-Gon knew that he was going to lose at this rate. Even if he had wanted to, he had no possibility of hitting back when Obi-Wan had him so firmly pushed into defence. Each parried hit tired him more, his grasp on the Force too feeble to put the energy behind his swings to contend with Obi-Wan’s Force augmentation. Vainly he tried to reclaim his inner peace, but between Obi-Wan’s words and the pure rage radiating off his padawan the so much needed balance remained out of reach, and with it his full access to the Force. He would’ve retreated back towards the other Jedi, but he couldn’t leave Anakin behind, who was still lying unconscious on the floor.

He desperately hoped that someone would come looking for them, that he just had to hold out until then, but in the end that effort was for nothing. A wide sweep from Obi-Wan forced him to bend over backwards, leaving him undefended against the Force push that slammed into him from above, pinning him onto the floor. A foot came down onto his right hand and he cried out when the small bones of his wrist were shattered, forcing him to relinquish his hold onto his lightsabre.

Obi-Wan stood above him, chest heaving from the exertion, a manic look in his eyes. “Seems like this is it for you.” He raised his lightsabre above his head. “Farewell, master.”

Qui-Gon knew that there was nothing he could to avoid the blow and he closed his eyes, feeling a small tear trickle down and into his hairline. There were no words he had that would make Obi-Wan hate him any less, but still he reached along their bond, pouring all the love he held for his former padawan into it, making it glow brightly. _I’m sorry_ , he whispered through their Force connection.

He expected to be met with burning hatred he had felt from Obi-Wan this whole time. He didn’t expect to hear his name shouted with the mental loudness equivalent to standing right beneath a starting Star Destroyer.

_Qui-Gon!?_

_Obi-Wan?_ he responded, confusion replacing his grief.

 _What—How did you… oh, the bond! Well, this is unexpected,_ the voice responded. _Is this- Are you about to get stabbed!?_

 _Yes, but—what is this?_ Qui-Gon asked, confounded. This was not how he had imagined his last few moments before he became one with the Force.

_No time to explain! I need you to strengthen the bond as much as you can and I might just find a narrow way out of this._

Unsure what to believe, but knowing that things couldn’t get worse, Qui-Gon channelled all the left-over Force energy he still had into the bright bond until he could practically feel it humming in his mind. He could feel Obi-Wan reaching out through it, but he could also feel the heat of the lightsabre that was bearing down on his chest and knew that it was too late to stop the violent motion even if Obi-Wan would try right this instance.

He sent one last gentle brush along the bond, hearing Obi-Wan’s wordless cry of denial echoing through it as he felt the plasma blade burn its way through cloth and flesh.


	14. Chapter 14

Dooku watched from the shadows as the red lightsaber disappeared into Qui-Gon’s chest, going straight through the heart. The body of his former padawan jerked once before it stilled, the weakened Force signature snuffed out like the light of a flickering candle. For a moment he felt pained, a small part of him crying out with grief. Ruthlessly he clamped down on it, and that small part died its pathetic death along with his padawan. There was no room for such weakness in these times. And no need for mourning when they were standing on the brink of creating something so much better than what Qui-Gon could have ever been.

Plucking at the strands of the Force like strings on an instrument, he unraveled the prison he had built around Kenobi’s mind. He watched as the man slumped, the control Dooku had over him evaporating and giving him reign over his body once more. A moment later Kenobi straightened, confusion and disorientation on his face that turned into shock in the blink of an eye, his entire being going still. The lightsaber he had still been holding where it was buried to the hilt in Qui-Gon’s chest hit the floor with a metallic clatter, its red blade extinguished. Kenobi reached for Qui-Gon, hastily taking his body into his arms, the trembling fingers of one hand skittering over the pierced chest until they drew upwards to press just underneath the strong jaw, searching for a pulse that wasn’t there anymore.

A terrible scream echoed through the hall, filled with more anguish than anything else Dooku had been able to elicit from Kenobi so far, breaking off into choked sobs as Kenobi doubled over the body cradled in his arms, his frame shaking. Tears were streaming freely over his face, dripping onto Qui-Gon’s cloak. Dooku watched as he reached out with one trembling hand, ever so gently closing unseeing eyes, drawing his fingers through Qui-Gon’s hair as he dropped his head to let his forehead rest against Qui-Gon’s. Dooku could see his lips moving, whispering words too quiet for him to hear even as Kenobi’s eyes were screwed shut, pain lining his face.

As much as Dooku would have liked to linger, he did not want to risk being found by Yoda. He stepped out of the shadow of the pillar he had been hiding behind, letting the shielding around his presence fall away. Kenobi shot up, his head whipping around as he looked at Dooku, the brilliant blue-green eyes shining from the tears that had left streaks over his face. Dooku could feel the moment the shattered shields broke, freeing the rage and hatred that had been pent up inside them ever since the death of the children, all of it rolling over Dooku like a wave. Had he still been a Jedi the raw dark emotions might have unbalanced him, but as a Sith he welcomed them, breathing them in like a delicious scent.

Kenobi carefully put Qui-Gon’s body down, standing up and calling the lightsaber that had rolled a few feet away towards him with the Force, all without breaking eye contact. His face remained blank, devoid of any emotion, but his eyes burned with a furious fire. Dooku simply waited, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sabre that was hanging from his belt.

The Force wave surprised him as he had expected a physical attack, even managing to push him back a few inches from where his feet where planted on the ground. He looked up just in time to see Kenobi leaping across the distance between them, the ignited red sabre bearing downwards. It slammed against his own similarly colored blade, the strength of the hit combined with the momentum of the jump making him use a considerable amount of Force control to keep his stance. Kenobi quickly drew his blade back, striking at Dooku’s side. The Sith parried, letting Kenobi take control of the fight as he limited himself to defense only.

It was remarkable to note the difference between his grand-padawan’s attack and that of Skywalker’s earlier. While Skywalker had charged ahead without any semblance of form and constraint, Kenobi was all contained cold fury, deadly precision in each of his strikes, a single-minded focus. The rage inside him was funneled into his blade not as a blunt instrument but akin to a sharp scalpel. He had seen the beginnings of this when he had watched the recordings of Kenobi’s fight with Maul, but the past ten years had supplied the growth in his skills to elevate it to a wholly other level, making the duel on Theed seem like a crude imitation.

The man who now crossed blades with him was no longer a padawan, but a Master in every way of the word. Under his every movement laid a grace that Jedi who dared to claim the same title could only dream of. He was nothing less but breathtakingly beautiful. The copper hair whipped with every step and turn like a crown of burning fire, the red of their blades reflecting in the strands. And the eyes, full of grief and rage, but every strike remained calculated, carefully designed to be as effective as possible.

Truly delightful. Kenobi would make an excellent Sith, all that rage honing him into a lethal weapon. He couldn’t understand Sidious’s obsession with Skywalker – the brat would never reach this level of control. Yet even now Kenobi was still holding onto the Light, no matter how much the fury inside him flared. It made Dooku wonder if Windu had ever taught the _Vapaad_ to him, but he hadn’t seen enough of the finalized version of that form to be able to recognize it within the mix Kenobi was using.

But as beautiful as this was to watch, he couldn’t indulge himself forever, even though it was a shame to cut this short. In the end overpowering Kenobi was easy, the man’s Force control still nearly non-existent after the Sith magic Dooku had used on him, and the overwhelming emotions inside him were not helping him to get a better grasp. Had this been a duel between two non-Force sensitive beings the outcome might have been unclear, but here Dooku merely brought the Force to bear, easily pushing past the attempt of defense Kenobi made and sweeping him off his feet, throwing him to the other end of the room. Using the Force, Dooku knocked the lightsaber out of his hand before Kenobi could get his bearings together. When the Knight reached out to the Force to hit back, Dooku lifted his left hand and put an invisible choke hold around his neck, constricting it and lifting the struggling man up until his feet couldn’t reach the floor anymore. Kenobi’s hands shot up to pull at the Force band around his throat, fingernails leaving red marks where they caught on the pale skin. Choked gasps fell from parted lips, the lack of air weakening his movements but the intensity in his eyes remained as he stared at Dooku, fury blazing in them even as they began to glaze over.

No time to linger, Dooku reminded himself. He was just preparing to knock Kenobi out cold when he heard the nearly silenced hum of a lightsaber. Only decades as a Jedi Master made him spin around so quickly, already taking half a step back.

It was enough to save his life from what would have been a killing blow otherwise. It was not enough to completely dodge the sabre and the energy blade cut through his left arm just a few inches below the shoulder joint, cleanly severing the limb from his body. He lifted his sabre just in time to deflect a stab at his heart, the force of it making him skid backwards as he looked in shock at the determined face of his former, very much alive padawan.

 

_A few minutes earlier_

Qui-Gon watched as the red blade was driven into his body and was acutely surprised that he wasn’t immediately dead – until he saw Obi-Wan’s thumb holding down the activation button. With a start he realized that he must have matched the speed of the blow to that of the retraction of the sabre blade. The tip of it had still burned a wound into his chest, but it was merely shallow, not even deep enough to graze his ribs.

 _Play dead_ , Obi-Wan hissed in his mind and the frantic undertone in his mental voice was enough to make Qui-Gon obey even though he had a disturbingly small knowledge about what exactly was going on. He stilled his body and cloaked his Force presence until none of it was visible from the outside. His eyes remained open and so he was able to see the golden yellow drain out of Obi-Wan’s eyes, revealing their blue-green color once more. Through the Force it felt like a fog had lifted around him, the Darkness evaporating until his Force presence was once more shining with warm, gentle Light, even if it felt dim and weakened at the moment. Obi-Wan slumped over him, the tension in his body disappearing.

“Dooku is here and watching,” Obi-Wan whispered, the movement of his lips hidden to the outside by the fringe of hair obscuring his face. “Don’t move, and don’t react.”

So he forced himself to remain still, even when Obi-Wan dropped the sabre and reached first for the wound in his chest, then his pulse point. He didn’t react to the horrible cry Obi-Wan let out, even as the anguish in it tore at his heart. _Just an act_ , he iterated, keeping himself from reaching out to comfort the Knight as he broke down over his body, sobbing. It was a painfully realistic performance and Qui-Gon was all too aware that for Obi-Wan it was a merely a repeat from the similar situation ten years ago.

So he focused on Obi-Wan’s hands on him, the roughened fingers that closed his eyes – quite the relief that – the sensation of them carding through his hair as Obi-Wan lifted his head up.

“Dooku will expect me to attack him the moment he reveals himself,” Obi-Wan murmured, his lips mere centimeters away from Qui-Gon’s face so that the sound was inaudible to anyone but him. “I am going to keep him focused on me. The moment his back is turned towards you, you have to use the opportunity, and make it count. I won’t be much use in a fight in my current condition and I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can beat Dooku in a one-on-one duel, he’s too powerful for that.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t respond in his current position, not without giving away his Force presence or his not-dead status, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem to be bothered by it. A moment later it became obsolete anyway, as he felt the sudden appearance of his master’s signature, an outburst of Darkness that had been hidden until now.

Next to him, Obi-Wan’s Force presence colored with a rage so intense that it nearly took his breath away. The grief might have been faked, overlaid with enough experience to be undistinguishable from the true thing with the tight grip Obi-Wan had kept around his Force presence, but this was real, a change in his signature that couldn’t be imitated by anything less than the actual emotion. Qui-Gon didn’t worry that his former padawan would fall to the Dark Side, not when he could still feel the leash that kept the rage in check, keeping it from controlling its owner. But his heart ached as he dreaded to imagine what had pushed Obi-Wan so far to feel such a deep hatred.

Nonetheless, the hands that laid him back on the ground were gentle, and more than anything else the small gesture reassured him that Obi-Wan would be fine.

He couldn’t see, but he did hear the sound of Dooku’s steps, the feeling of the Force energy Obi-Wan unleashed and the sound of his lightsaber igniting. He didn’t dare to open his eyes, relying on his hearing and his Force sense to keep track of the fight and the position of the fighters, even as Dooku’s Force push sent Obi-Wan flying past Qui-Gon.

He opened his eyes for only a fraction once Dooku had walked past him, watching his former master stalk towards where Obi-Wan was lying on the ground. Making sure to keep any sound from being heard by using the Force he slowly stood up, picking up his lightsaber as he went. His preferred sword hand was still broken, but every Jedi was trained to be ambidextrous so his left hand would do fine. He could see Dooku with his back turned towards Qui-Gon, one arm outstretched as he kept Obi-Wan suspended in the air, constricting his throat. Everything in him screamed to rush to his former padawan’s aid, but he forced himself to walk slowly and quietly, knowing that he only had one shot at this.

He did not want to kill his former master, even though he was fully aware of what he had become. They had never been as close as he had been with his own padawans, but he still felt grief over the knowledge of what he would have to do. Yet he had a duty to fulfil as Jedi.

And though as Jedi he wasn’t supposed to feel the want for revenge, his resolution was strengthened a lot by the knowledge of the terrible things Dooku had done to Obi-Wan.

As soon he was close enough he drew his lightsabre back, igniting the blade only at the last moment as he swung it forward, intent on bisecting Dooku at the torso. To his dismay the Sith reacted more quickly than he had thought possible, paying the price of his left arm in return for keeping his life just a bit longer.

Dooku whirled around, the shock on his face replaced by fury, making to attack Qui-Gon only to have to twist to the side as Obi-Wan sliced at him, the red sabre once more in his hand. Snarling, Dooku retreated backwards. Obi-Wan and he made to follow him but had to skitter back as Force lightning erupted around Dooku, forming a protective bubble. Suddenly the energy erupted skywards, striking into the stone ceiling. A huge crack appeared in the previously seamless surface and then chunks of stone broke out and fell, separating them from Dooku as they were forced to move back. In only a matter of seconds the entire section had come crashing down, forming a huge wall between their side of the room and the one Dooku had been on, stretching to both ends of the room without any gaps to slip through.

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan muttered beside him, his voice rough from the treatment his throat had been getting. “No way we’ll get through there in time.”

Qui-Gon pulled out his comm unit. “I’ll send out a message to the others to see if they find an alternate route in that direction and intercept Dooku.”

Obi-Wan merely nodded tiredly, before sitting down on the floor in a motion that was only a fraction away from collapsing. Qui-Gon hurried to finish the message, then turned towards his former padawan.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

Obi-Wan let out a weak chuckle, dragging a hand over his face. “I feel like shit, and could sleep for a week. But physically I’m unharmed, some bruising aside.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “We should go check on Anakin and then get out of here and back to the main hangar.”

Obi-Wan stiffened in surprise. “Anakin is here?” he asked, obviously thrown.

“Yes.” Qui-Gon frowned. “You weren’t aware? How much exactly do you remember from the fight?”

“I- nothing, pretty much. I was locked inside my own mind and couldn’t see anything of what was going on until you reached out to me through the bond. Is Anakin alright?”

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure if he should be disturbed by what Obi-Wan was describing, or relieved that he at least knew nothing of what had been said. There were a lot of things he would need to meditate on himself before he could start discussing how much of what had been said was true. But for now getting Anakin and bringing all of them far away from this place was his priority anyway and there would be time to worry about everything else in the future, but not in this moment.

“Anakin got knocked out during the fight,” Qui-Gon said. “Can you walk? He’s lying near the entrance.”

In lieu of answering Obi-Wan reached up and Qui-Gon grasped his hand and pulled him up.

“Where?” Obi-Wan rasped, even as he swayed precariously.

“Come along,” Qui-Gon said, unceremoniously taking the arm he had been holding onto over his shoulder. Obi-Wan didn’t complain about being helped, instead leaning his weight against Qui-Gon as they walked over to where he had put Anakin. The moment they were close enough, Obi-Wan let go of Qui-Gon, dropping to his knees next to his unconscious padawan.

“Oh, Anakin,” he whispered softly as he assessed the damage. He reached up with one hand to lay it against the padawan’s temple, eyes fluttering closed as he reached out through the Force. Qui-Gon could feel the energy coalescing around him, like the flames of a fire reaching higher, just to collapse back again into flickering glowing embers as exhaustion broke Obi-Wan’s grip. Sharp frustration sparked in his Force signature only to be muted down by the weariness that had settled in his body.

“Let me,” Qui-Gon said quietly, crouching down next to Obi-Wan and putting his hand over that of his former padawan. The touch of skin to skin felt electrifying as their bond came to life once again, shining brightly inside Qui-Gon’s mind as he fed his own energy towards Obi-Wan, letting it flow into the connection he had with Anakin.

Under their joined hands Anakin stirred as they pulled him out of unconsciousness. His eyes opened, blinking dazedly as he looked from Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon and back.

“Wha’ happened?” he asked, seeming disoriented. Qui-Gon just hoped it was merely from the forced awakening and not caused by a concussion.

“You were knocked out,” Qui-Gon explained. “It turned out that Dooku was controlling Obi-Wan and we managed to break the spell and injure Dooku, but he fled and caused a cavern collapse before we could apprehend him.”

“Ah,” Anakin said. He looked over to Obi-Wan. “So, that… wasn’t you then?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “No, padawan, it wasn’t. I… I don’t remember anything I did while Dooku was controlling me, but I am so sorry for anything I’ve-“

He was cut off by Anakin who practically tackled his master, enveloping him in a tight hug. Qui-Gon could see him tense for a moment before he relaxed into the hold, returning the embrace, his head resting above Anakin’s who had snuggled himself against his chest.

“If Dooku was controlling you, then there is nothing you have to apologize for,” Anakin said, his voice muffled from where he had pressed himself into Obi-Wan’s robes.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh. “Anakin-“

“No,” Anakin protested. “If anything I am sorry for being stupid enough to fall for such a blatant trick when I should’ve known better than to believe you would really… do that kind of thing.”

“Anakin, there was no way you could’ve known—”

“Exactly,” Anakin said, causing Obi-Wan to chuckle at the outspoken stubbornness in his words.

“We’re good then?” Obi-Wan asked, sobering.

“Yes,” Anakin said ardently.

Obi-Wan turned his head a bit, his eyes finding Qui-Gon’s even as he kept his hold on Anakin. For a moment there was naked uncertainty on his face, mixed with uncharacteristic hesitancy. Qui-Gon was confused, until he could see Obi-Wan quietly mouthing the same question and realized that the emotions were not caused by Anakin, but by himself.

A gentle smile graced his features as he reached out to touch Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his lips forming back an ‘Of course’.

Even with their silent communication Anakin must have sensed the shift in attention from his master, because the next thing Qui-Gon knew was one of Anakin’s hands latching onto him and pulling him close until he was pressed against Obi-Wan. Offering only compliance, Qui-Gon reached around and took advantage of his superior size by enveloping both Obi-Wan and Anakin in his arms, with Obi-Wan trapped between them, his back against Qui-Gon’s chest.

For a few moments there was nothing but their quiet breathing, the Force around them humming with exhaustion but also contentment and relief, all of them shaken but elated nonetheless.

They disentangled themselves in a mutual motion though even as Qui-Gon and Anakin straightened, Obi-Wan seemed to slump now that he wasn’t being held up by them, a slight tremor running through his body that Qui-Gon knew spoke of barely contained exhaustion.

“We should get going,” Qui-Gon said. “You definitely need to see a healer.”

Obi-Wan offered a weak grin. “I’m not going to argue with that assessment. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk very far in this state though. Or stay conscious for much longer for that matter.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Qui-Gon said as he shrugged out of his cloak. Without leaving room for any potential protests he wrapped his former padawan into the clothing, the shaking subsiding a bit with the additional warmth. He took the large bundle into his arms and stood up, easily lifting Obi-Wan off the ground.

“I’ll carry you. Rest now,” he said softly as Obi-Wan’s eyelids began to droop. In a matter of second he was out cold, the last bit of tension leaving his body as he finally relaxed in a sleep that was closer to being knocked out than anything else. There was a small bit of movement as he unconsciously burrowed into the warm robe and towards Qui-Gon’s chest until his head rested against it.

Qui-Gon caught Anakin looking at them with a contemplating look on his face, which quickly disappeared when he raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. Instead of saying anything, Anakin inclined his head towards the exit and out they went.


	15. Chapter 15

Obi-Wan woke, his eyes opening slowly to look up at a light-blue ceiling. He could hear faint pings of a heartbeat monitor that was ever so slightly picking up on speed as his body came to full wakefulness. Slowly and carefully he sat up, hands bunching up the soft material of the sheets from the bed he had been lying in.

“Knight Kenobi,” a voice to his left said and he turned his head to look at a dark-skinned, humanoid woman, standing between him and the single door the room had. She had dark, curly hair that was gathered up in a bun and was wearing the robes of a Jedi Healer.

“My name is Sawena Nenn. You are on Corellia, in the Temple’s infirmary. You were rescued from captivity two days ago. Do you remember that?”

Obi-Wan stared at her mutely, the pings from the monitor quickening as his body tensed with flight-instinct. Still, the woman didn’t react, instead keeping her posture relaxed and non-threatening. Forcefully he shoved down on the panic clawing at his throat, keeping himself from engaging in any rash actions and concentrated on remembering. He could recall the sensation of being wrapped into a warm cloak, the feeling of _safe_ when Qui-Gon picked him up.

“I remember,” he said, his voice rough. On instinct he reached for the Force, wanting to see if Qui-Gon and Anakin were here and safe, but was brought up short.

“Why can’t I feel the Force?” he asked sharply.

“You’re suffering from severe mental overexhaustion, which is impairing your Force abilities. They will return to full capacity after enough rest and healing.”

“How long?” Obi-Wan asked, the need of finally feeling the Force in its untainted form again overriding his decorum.

“At least two days of bedrest, and after that no strenuous activity for a week, including all Force use.” Upon seeing Obi-Wan’s falling face she added: “Meditation will be allowed after three days, as long as you keep them light and don’t attempt any Force trances. Physically you may be uninjured, but your body is exhausted and your mind took a heavy battering from which it needs to heal, lest you want the damage to become permanent.”

Obi-Wan winced at the notion, which for the healer seemed to be enough indication that her warning was being taken seriously.

“There is also the matter of the branding,” the Healer began, the words causing Obi-Wan to freeze. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten about that. Without much finesse he shoved aside the soft beige tunic he had been clad in and nearly slumped over in relief when his shaking hand only encountered smooth, unmarred skin.

“We could not discern its exact purpose,” Nenn said, “though we have contacted the Jedi scholars who still hold academic knowledge of Sith alchemy and they have been working on it. Nonetheless, with how wholly Dark it was, we went ahead and purified as well as healed the marks.”

“I am glad,” Obi-Wan said, and the Healer studied him, undoubtedly curious but also knowing that no information would be divulged until he had been debriefed by the Council.

“If you feel well enough for it, your padawan would like to see you,” Nenn said finally. At Obi-Wan’s nod she left the room.

Not more than a few seconds later the door opened again and Anakin’s head poked in. His hair had grown a bit longer than the standard padawan cut was supposed to be and was already beginning to form tousled curls. There were faint red imprints on one side of his face where he must have been dozing on some surface that wasn’t a bed, but his grin was bright.

“Hey there, master,” he said as he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied with a smile, discreetly taking in his padawan’s appearance. None of the bruises and small lacerations from when he had last seen him remained and he had switched out his robes for clean and whole new ones. There were faint shadows under his eyes that indicated uneasy sleep, but otherwise he looked well.

Anakin pulled one of the chairs to the bed and sat down, at last making his height a bit less intimidating from where Obi-Wan was sitting on the bed.

“How are you?” Obi-Wan asked and Anakin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Seeing as you’re the one who’s lying in the Healer’s ward?”

“I imagine that you already know how I’m feeling,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle, motioning towards his head. “I can’t imagine that my shielding is very good at the moment.”

“Well, yeah,” Anakin said. “I mean, you feel fine, okay, tired maybe, but that’s just on the surface and stuff.”

“And at the moment I’m much too exhausted to indulge in any deeper thinking,” Obi-Wan said.

“Oh,” Anakin said. “Do you want to go back to sleep? Should I leave? I can go fetch the healer again if you want.”

“Anakin, it’s fine,” Obi-Wan placated his apprentice. “From what I’ve been told I’ve just slept for two days straight, I’d rather be awake for a bit right now.”

“I hope you’ll manage more than a bit because there are several people who want to see you,” Anakin said. “The healers just wouldn’t allow more than one person at once, so it’s just me for now, but outside there’s Master Qui-Gon waiting, and Garen and Vos, and Bant who just got here from Coruscant. And the Council wants with speak to you of course, but the healers insisted that they can’t start interrogating you the moment you wake up, so…”

Obi-Wan winced at the mention of the Council. That was one conversation he was not looking forward to, not when exhaustion and the fuzzy feeling from a long sleep were currently keeping everything that had happened over the last few tendays at bay.

 _Liv_ _e in the moment_ , he re-intoned, then had to suppress a manic giggle when he realized that he’d once again have someone else saying that particular sentence of wisdom to him.

“What happened while I was asleep? Did they capture Dooku?” he asked out loud. No need to worry the already fretting padawan even more with unnerving silences.

“No,” Anakin said, looking contrite. “We lost him in the underground maze and he escaped via some cloaked ship. They’re still trying to track his hyperspace course but Vos said there’s not much hope.”

Anakin’s hands had balled to tight fists in his lap and Obi-Wan gently laid his own hand upon them, loosening the tight grip from where the finger nails had started to dig into skin.

“Anakin, it’s not your fault,” he said softly.

“I know,” Anakin snapped. “But- he got away, again! After all that happened, he should pay for what he did to you!”

Even with his muted Force sense Obi-Wan could feel the hatred curling around his padawan’s force signature like a living snake, interlaced with fear and tightening its grip with every passing second.

“Anakin, you need to calm your mind,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm. Anakin had always been susceptible to emotions too strong for him to control, which on its own would have been manageable hadn’t his connection to the Force been equally strong. With Obi-Wan’s shields lying in tatters, the anger radiating from Anakin felt burning hot against his exposed mind. “Revenge is not the Jedi way.”

“But he should be brought to justice!”

“I did not deny that,” Obi-Wan said. “But you cannot let yourself be blinded by vengeance. Draw your motivation from the need to prevent further suffering, not from wanting to retaliate for things that happened in the past and which won’t be changed by your actions.”

At last Anakin let out a deep breath, the turbulent eddies in the Force around him finally calming down until they faded beyond what Obi-Wan was currently able to sense.

“I can’t stop hating him for what he did though,” he said quietly.

“And I’m not asking you to do so. Even us Jedi are only human. It only matters that you can control these emotions. And besides, I-“

“Don’t say you’re alright,” Anakin said sharply. “I know that you’re not.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I was going to say that I will be alright, even if right now I might not be.” And it might take a while, he silently added, shivering inwardly.

A bit of scepticism remained on Anakin’s face, but he seemed mostly satisfied with the answer. Still, Obi-Wan was twitching to reach out through their bond and back up his words via the Force, but the healer’s words held him back, even when he badly wanted to. And to think that he would have at least one more week of this; that was going to be so much fun.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings, the unexpected sound nearly causing him to flinch and only decades of Jedi training kept him from doing so. Judging by the side-gaze Anakin gave Obi-Wan it seemed as if his efforts of nonchalance hadn’t been very successful, but then he could also see his padawan trying to very casually take his hand off of his lightsabre again, so at least he was not the only one who was on edge. For a moment Anakin’s eyes focussed somewhere far away, a tell-tale look he always got when he listened to the Force and one Obi-Wan had been trying to train out of him for the better half of his apprenticeship.

“It’s Master Yoda and Healer Eerin,” Anakin said.

So much for catching a break then.  As much as he would have preferred to pull the blanket over his head and listen to nothing but the gentle hum of the Force, his conviction as Jedi would never let him allow himself to shy from duty.

“Let them in then,” he said, his voice sounding stronger than he currently felt.

Anakin shot him a suspicious glance, but he did stand up and walk towards the door, opening it to reveal Master Yoda and Bant. The Mon Calamari quickly walked into the room, her jedi robes swishing around her ankles, while the smaller Master followed at a more sedate pace.

“Hey Obi,” Bant said once she reached his bed side, a bright, relieved smile on her face.

“Hello Bant,” Obi-Wan said with a mirroring smile, and all too gladly let himself be embraced when she reached for him, taking comfort in the familiarity of the smell of saltwater and the cool, slick feeling of her skin where her cheek touched his.

“I’m so glad you’re back with us now,” Bant said quietly and Obi-Wan tightened his grip around her in response.

Finally they parted and Obi-Wan turned his head to look at Master Yoda, who was regarding them patiently, his clawed hands resting folded on his gimer stick.

“To see you, good it is,” the grandmaster said.

“Likewise, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied and the diminutive master hummed contentedly, before his expression turned sombre.

“Know that much you have given and endured in the name of the Order, we do,” he said, his long ears lowered. “And to add to that suffering, none of us wish to. Yet, ask you to give even more once again, we must. To hear your recounting of what has happened, the Council needs.”

“I know, and I understand,” Obi-Wan said, even as he fought to keep the dread that was tightening around his chest at bay.

Master Yoda nodded gravely. “Set up, a transmission to Coruscant has been. Await you, the rest of the Council does. Accompany you, Healer Eerin will.”

“I’ll come too,” Anakin announced, looking at Master Yoda with a defiant glare, the one he always got when he was gearing up for a fight.

“No Anakin,” Obi-Wan said before any of the other two Jedi could get a word in. His padawan whirled around, caught off-guard by the refusal coming from the one person he hadn’t expected it from.

“But Master-“

He held up a hand and Anakin’s mouth snapped shut, the reflex stemming from a decade of training. “Anakin, can you promise me that no matter what I’ll say you will be able to remain calm and balanced? That you will keep your anger behind your shields and out of our bond for the entire time of the meeting? That no matter what you hear you will remain outwardly unaffected?”

There was a brief pause where it looked like Anakin was going to say yes against all reason, but then the fight drained out of him, his posture slumping. “You know that I can’t,” he mumbled.

“And I am not faulting you for it. I know that this all has been difficult for you. It is just that I will have enough trouble keeping my own equilibrium without feeling first-hand how much this will upset you.”

Anakin nodded, an unhappy but ultimately resigned look on his face.

“We should get going,” Bant interrupted gently. With a great deal of reluctance, Anakin stepped away from Obi-Wan’s bed side and watched as the trio of Jedi left the room.

 

*

 

Qui-Gon was standing in the small antechamber that preceded the Correllian Council room. His hands were tucked into his sleeves, his expression and his presence in the Force exuding nothing but patience and calm, neither of which he was actually feeling inside. Obi-Wan had been in meeting with the Council for nearly three hours, which he knew was not as outrageous a length for such an extensive debriefing as it might feel like, but which did not help his anxiety.

He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan ever since they had arrived on Correllia, the healers immediately whisking the unconscious form of the other man away and not relinquishing their guard over him for the whole duration of his sleep. And even after he had awoken they had strict orders to only come to him one at a time.

It would have been Anakin’s right to stand here, but the padawan had relinquished the position to Qui-Gon with the argument that he had already been able to see Obi-Wan and that as his master Qui-Gon should have been allowed to be there anyway. Qui-Gon himself was not so sure about the last one – yes, he had been Obi-Wan’s master and from his perspective it had only been weeks since he had last seen his former padawan. But for Obi-Wan he hadn’t been his master for over a decade. How could he presume to exert any of the benefits of his position when it was a thing belonging to a distant past?

And then there were also still the hateful words Obi-Wan had shouted at him on San-Ver. Even though Qui-Gon knew that it hadn’t actually been him, the accusations that had been made were far from baseless.

Forcefully he shoved these thoughts aside. He would have to come to terms with all of this in what would undoubtedly be many hours of meditation, but now was not the time for it. The present had enough problems on its own. While he had ultimately been grateful to Anakin for the gesture, he also had noticed how troubled the young man was. A turmoil of emotion seemed to be bubbling beneath the surface, dangerously close to spilling past the shields. In hindsight he was all too aware that they had been steadily growing during their desperate search, the control Anakin kept on them fraying more and more.

It would have been Qui-Gon’s responsibility as a master – not to mention as Anakin’s grandmaster - to help him sort through them, but he had been too occupied with his worry for Obi-Wan, effectively blinding himself to what he had then perceived as a secondary problem, until it now was glaringly obvious. It was a bitter irony that he had once again let his focus on the moment distract him from everything else, which was the one flaw Master Dooku had always lectured him about.

The doors to the antechamber opened, ripping him out of his thoughts. Obi-Wan and his friend Bant stepped out, the Mon Calamari resting a soothing hand against Obi-Wan’s arm. Even from the distance he could see how drawn his former padawan looked.

Bant leaned in to say something, the words too quiet for Qui-Gon too hear, but Obi-Wan’s head snapped up and towards him, a smile forming on his face, exhausted around the edges but still bright.

Obi-Wan turned to exchange a few words with Bant and then gently leaned his forehead against hers before they parted, Bant leaving the room as Obi-Wan approached Qui-Gon.

For a moment they awkwardly stood before each other, both of them trying to look at the other without being too obvious in their staring.

Obi-Wan coughed. “Could we perhaps go somewhere else?” he asked.

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said. “Do you have anywhere in particular in mind?”

“The gardens?” 

He nodded and they left the antechamber. They walked down the hallways at a sedate pace, Qui-Gon mindful of Obi-Wan’s weakened state and adjusting his usually long strides accordingly.

The gardens of the Corellian Temple were smaller than those on Coruscant, but still more than big enough to find a private place inside the greenery even with the other Jedi that were milling around or meditating. They stopped at a place separated from the rest of the garden by a row of zinnia bushes.

As trained diplomats, they were above such obvious tells as picking your sleeve or shifting on your feet, but that did not make the stretching silence any less awkward.

 

Carefully, Qui-Gon reached out with one hand, causing Obi-Wan to flinch for a moment before he visibly forced himself to stand still when Qui-Gon’s fingers touched the bare skin behind his ear.

“It burned,” Obi-Wan said quietly, causing Qui-Gon to startle. Green eyes looked up at him. “I put it on the pyre with your body.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon said, smiling sadly. “…I’m sorry, dear one.”

Obi-Wan nodded, before reaching up to clasp Qui-Gon’s hand with both of his own. He softly rubbed his fingers over the rough calluses in Qui-Gon’s palm.

“I’m just glad that you’re here again,” Obi-Wan whispered. Qui-Gon’s heart ached when he saw the hints of old grief flitting over Obi-Wan’s face, wounds closed by time but still present as never tender scars.

“And I am glad that you are here with us too,” Qui-Gon said quietly, reaching out with his free hand to wind an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and pull him close. The knight let out a sigh as he melted into the embrace, both of them sinking down until they were kneeling in the grass. The side of Obi-Wan’s head pressed against Qui-Gon’s chest, his eyes fluttering shut as he listened to the steady heart beat beneath the skin. Gently Qui-Gon curled his body around Obi-Wan’s, as if it would provide a shield between the vulnerable man and the outside world. Around them it was quiet, safe for the faint noises of the garden around them and their own breathing. But unlike before, Qui-Gon was content with letting this silence be, just basking in the warmth were Obi-Wan and he were tangled together, the Force around them humming with love and peace.

Finally they untangled, though Qui-Gon kept his grip on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, but we should get you back to the Healers,” Qui-Gon said, the pallor of Obi-Wan’s face not going unnoticed. Obi-Wan sighed, but let Qui-Gon help him to his feet.

They returned to the garden entrance only to see a Jedi in Healer robes walking towards them with swift steps. She had a shaven head and the characteristic white skin of a Dathomirian female, with purple markings streaming away from the corners of her mouth and eyes.

“Knight Kenobi,” she said, sounding just a bit winded. No doubt the poor woman had been searching half the temple for her patient. “I have been looking for you. Healer Nenn has asked me to accompany you back to your room.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said.                                                             

“I can come with you,” Qui-Gon offered, only to be interjected by the Healer.

“With all due respect, but Knight Kenobi is supposed to be on bed rest and if possible I would advise to avoid any further excitement for the day.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said when it looked like Qui-Gon was going to protest. “With the amount of resting I have been prescribed we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.”

“Fine,” Qui-Gon muttered, then put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Rest well, my friend.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, briefly clasping his arm before they parted.

Qui-Gon watched them leave, Obi-Wan trailing behind the Healer. A part deep inside him was urging him to not leave Obi-Wan alone. He wanted to go after them and keep an eye on his former padawan, the happenings of the last few weeks still too fresh in his mind and feeding into his anxiety. Nonetheless, he shoved them aside. Obi-Wan was with the Healers and in good hands now, and he would have to trust them to do their job.

Live in the moment, he told himself as he had so often done with his padawan. It wouldn’t do to focus on baseless bad feelings for the future. So instead he set his path out to go and find Anakin and see if he couldn’t offer a helping hand to his grand-padawan.


	16. Chapter 16

Obi-Wan trailed behind the healer, his slow pace forcing her to adjust her own. A certain air of impatience was radiating from her, but at this point even if he had wanted to he wouldn’t be able to walk much faster. If the option had been viable he would have taken a nap right here in the open hallways, decorum be damned. But they were undoubtedly already late enough – he had told Bant that he would return within half an hour after all. And while his sense of time was shot to hell he was sure that he had exceeded that time limit by more than merely a few minutes. Not that he hadn’t known that would happen the moment he said it. Not that Bant hadn’t known this would happen the moment he said it. He had thought she would give him a bit more of a head start before she tattled on him with the other healers though.

The med quarters were just as impersonal and cold as before, but right now he wouldn’t be able to muster the appreciation for the finer nuances of inner architecture anyway. The healer closed the door, then walked to the side of the room to open the large window, from which one could overlook Coronet, Correllia’s capitel city. Not that Obi-Wan paid her much mind – mostly he was leaning a bit too casually against the chair Anakin had used a few hours ago and tried to look like he was not about to keel over. Ever since he had left the garden with the Healer he could feel a headache building up and he couldn’t even use the Force to lessen the pain. Not that he could feel the Force at the moment anyway.

“Master Kenobi,” he heard the Healer say, looking up to see her walk towards him, his vision nearly going blurry as the pain in his head increased.

A crash, and both their heads snapped around towards the sound to see the door being slashed in two, revealing Bant in her Healer robes, her bright rosé lightsabre lit in her right hand.

“Obi, get away from her!” she yelled and Obi-Wan turned just in time to see the Healer lunge at him, drawing a long vibro-knife out from the wide sleeves of her robe. Instincts made him raise his arms before his body, even as he tried to back away, and the blade slit across the outer side of his bared forearms, leaving deep cuts all the way down to the bone.

She swept the legs out from underneath him and he hit the ground hard, scrambling to get back on his feet even as he saw her swinging the blade down on him.

But then Bant was there, intercepting the other woman’s weapon with her lightsabre and pushing her back with a Force shove as she stepped protectively in front of Obi-Wan.

“Why are you doing this?” Bant snapped. “Who sent you?”

A self-satisfied smirk curled around their adversary’s lips as she straightened up.

“Oh sweetie,” she said, “did you really think the Sith would let anything that was once theirs go so easily?”

“They will have to,” Bant snarled, baring the sharp, pointed teeth of an underwater predator.

“What once belonged to the Dark will remain there, little fishie. Until it meets its end, that is.”

The woman took a step backwards until she was standing before the open window, then with a last grin let herself fall and disappeared over the window sill. Obi-Wan watched as Bant ran to the window, only to see the woman flying away on a speeder.

Suddenly his vision tilted upward, and he crumbled to the ground. Even lying on the floor the world didn’t seem to stop spinning. The cuts on his arms burned, blood freely running over the skin and down into the thin carpet.

Hands turned him onto his back, touching his pallid face. Force energy poured into him like cool water, seeking to douse the flames that were boiling his blood, but ultimately the fire was spreading faster than it could be pushed back. If he had been able to draw enough breath he would have screamed from the agony. Poison, he realized belatedly.  The Force had been trying to warn him before, but in his current state it had only manifested in a headache. With tired eyes he looked up at Bant who had begun to draw the poison out of the wounds, a grey mist of tiny droplets forming over the cuts. It’s too late, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get his voice to work and all that got past his lips was blood.

Bant was looking at him, her mouth forming words he couldn’t hear over the rushing in his ears. The flaring pain was beginning to be replaced by numbness and he didn’t need to see the increasingly frantic look in Bant’s eyes to know that things weren’t looking good. With the exhaustion of weeks of captivity having drained all of his reserves his body simply didn’t have it left to put up much of a fight.

He must have blacked out for a few second, as the next thing he knew was a gnarly, two clawed hand touching his forehead, and he tore his eyes away from Bant to see Yoda kneeling beside him. Even as he tried to focus on the grandmaster his vision blurred, smudging forms into spots of colour. He felt Yoda’s Force energy join Bant’s efforts, but it felt like they were pouring water into a broken cup, any strength his body might have gained immediately dissipating, slipping through his fingers like sand. His breath shuddered in his lungs and slowly he exhaled, with no inhale following.

 

*

 

One moment the world was fine, the next the Force seemed to tilt on its axis, the careful balance surrounding them snapping out of its alignment for just a fraction of a second, but still leaving him off-kilter.

Qui-Gon knew what had happened without needing to see Anakin’s face drain of all colour. Without running after him as the young man took off, without reaching the medical wing, without hearing the low, humming sounds of a Mon Calamari in grief coming from one of the rooms, without entering the room and seeing Obi-Wan lying on the floor, his head in Bant’s lap, eyes closed, skin nearly white except for where red blood had trickled from his mouth. And not breathing.

He heard Anakin scream, full of pain and rage, before he collapsed at Obi-Wan’s side like a puppet with its strings cut.

Qui-Gon remained in the doorway, unable to move as if someone had frozen him in carbonite. The tableau before him felt unreal, a hazy nightmare that should not have ever passed into their waking hours. Anakin, trembling as he gripped at his master’s hand; Bant, still vocalizing her song of sadness, akin to the sound of whales – her species’ equivalent to crying; Yoda, bent over his cane and looking each one of his 900 years old, the long ears drooped and eyes filled with sorrow.

Distantly, he heard Bant offering explanations to Anakin’s broken questions; talking about finding the corpse of Healer Nenn, who had been murdered and replaced by an assassin sent by Dooku. About how she had found her with Obi-Wan, and how she had failed to prevent the assassin from maiming and poisoning him. About how her and Yoda’s combined efforts had been too little and too late to stop Obi-Wan’s death.

Belatedly he realized that the assassin Bant was describing had been the healer they had met in the gardens. That the worry he had felt and dismissed back then had been a warning from the Unifying Force. He had assumed – they had all assumed – that the Correllian Temple would offer all the protection they could possibly need. That after all the misery they had lived through these past weeks they could just leave it all behind now that they had rescued Obi-Wan. That nothing bad could happen now that he was back with them.

A naïve mistake, and now it had come and collected its devastatingly high price.

Not him, not Obi-Wan, not his Obi-Wan. Where was the justice, how could such an unfair travesty insert itself into the machinations of the galaxy and take his dear friend away from him, how could the Force let one of its brightest children die such a pointless death? He wanted to scream, to rage against the world and fate and the Force, to demand, beg, bargain for the chance to turn back time and undo what had been done. To offer anything in return for the light to come back into the eyes of one he loved more than his own life.

The crippling guilt would come later, but now he could do nothing but remain still and silent like a statue, not even flinching when two healers stepped past him into the room, bringing a stretcher with them.  Bant slowly relinquished her hold on Obi-Wan’s body, then turned to gently pry away Anakin’s fingers from where he had been clutching Obi-Wan’s hand. It was only when the healers heaved the body onto the stretcher that the padawan seemed to realize what was happening.

Qui-Gon grabbed hold of him as he tried to run after the healers carrying Obi-Wan out of the room. Tightly he wrapped his arms around the waist of the struggling young man, not letting go even as Anakin began to pound at him with his fists, undoubtedly leaving bruises, all the while screaming demands and accusations.

 After a few minutes he ran out of steam, deflating as the fight left him. His legs buckled and Qui-Gon kneeled down with him, only shifting his grip slightly so that Anakin was turned towards his chest. He felt him tremble and then the first sobs came, muffled against where Anakin pressed his face into Qui-Gon’s cloak, the fabric turning wet with tears.

Qui-Gon continued to hold him, not bothering with meaningless words, merely not letting go even as he himself stared blankly ahead, looking at the small spots of red marring the white floor where Obi-Wan had died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (before anyone seriously freaks out, I would tag major character death if it were in the story)


	17. Chapter 17

They held the pyre on Coruscant. Not that there was much to see – it had been millennia since they had regularly burned the bodies of their dead on an open fire. Instead the body was lowered into the ground in a casket, sealed into the chamber and then incinerated at five thousand Kelvin within the fraction of a second.

The Hall of Ascendance, as the original architects of the Temple had so poetically named their bloody crematorium, was full with even quite a few non-Jedi mingling in with the crowd.  Senator Amidala was standing with two other politicians, Duchess Kryze and Senator Organa. The Jedi Council was there, as well as a lot of Knights and Masters Qui-Gon recognized and even more whose faces he either hadn’t been familiar enough with to place after ten years, or whom he simply had never met. Even padawans and younglings.

He should feel pride at seeing how many lives his padawan had touched, even when he had never gotten beyond holding the rank of a Knight, but at the moment violent grief was eclipsing any other emotion he might feel. Unnecessarily he tugged at his cloak, pulling the hood just a bit deeper into his face as pain turned it into a grimace, still just as fresh and brutal as it had been three days ago when Obi-Wan had died. Not that there were many people up here to see him – he had been delegated to stand on one of the balconies overseeing the hall. Anakin had protested when Mace had told him about the Council’s request – one of the handful of instances the boy had spoken without being prompted since Correllia. Qui-Gon however hadn’t objected. The Council had been meaning to keep the fact that he was alive covert for now, and him suddenly appearing on his own padawan’s funeral would have been a bit too much advertising, but Qui-Gon honestly preferred to be free of any potential obligations to socialize in his grief. If there was one thing he was sorry for, it only was that Anakin now had to stand alone before the sealed chamber, watching the light signaling the burning fade.

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, and Qui-Gon saw Anakin slinking away amidst the many hooded figures. Qui-Gon didn’t hurry after him, instead following his own route back to the quarters that had been temporarily assigned to him. It came to no surprise to him to open the door and see Anakin already inside, perching on one of the chairs and staring straight ahead. The boy had been staying in these rooms ever since they returned to Coruscant and Qui-Gon hadn’t expected for him to suddenly voluntarily go back to his and Obi-Wan’s shared quarters.

Qui-Gon knew that Anakin was aware that he was here, but nothing in his posture changed. Ever since his breakdown in the hospital room he hadn’t shown anything but apathy, and on occasion short-lived anger. The master knew that other Jedi had approached the padawan in an attempt to help him, among them Master Yoda and Healer Bant, but he had rebuffed them all with various degrees of open hostility. Only Qui-Gon seemed to be the exception to the norm, but then he hadn’t exactly been trying to coax Anakin out of his near-catatonia. It was already a lot of effort to not fall into the same emotional state, and to remember to make sure they both ate and slept.

Qui-Gon should be worried – he knew that beneath the blank surface Anakin’s emotions were boiling. Occasionally, the surface would crack for a moment and some of it would leak out, instantly blackening the Force around him to the point where Qui-Gon felt like he was suffocating with every breath. It was always gone just as soon as it had appeared, but all these moments were reminders that right now Anakin was a bomb that could go off at any moment, at great cost to everyone around him, but the most to himself.

Without knowing what else to do Qui-Gon went into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water. Normally he would have made tea, but from their time together he by now knew that Anakin didn’t hold much fondness for it; and more importantly, that it had never failed to remind him of Obi-Wan.

When he got back into the living room Anakin was fiddling with his communicator.

“Master Windu wants to see us in the Healing Halls,” Anakin said without looking up.

“What for?” Qui-Gon asked with a frown. He held out the glass to Anakin, who took and drank it in one go without really looking at the content. During the past few days Qui-Gon had found that Anakin would issue no complaint about consuming whatever he put in front of him, but would make absolutely no effort to eat or drink anything otherwise. Maybe Qui-Gon should be pushing him more and stop making things easy for him, but at the moment taking care of Anakin at least gave him some sense of purpose to keep himself going.

 “Doesn’t say,” Anakin said with a shrug. “Just ‘Come to Healing room 2-42, both of you’. End of message.”

“There is a certain privacy granted by the Healing rooms. Maybe he just wants to talk about our further status without making it official business.”

When Anakin didn’t say anything, Qui-Gon continued on: “Would you come with me then?”

Anakin pushed himself out of the chair. “Sure,” he said, shuffling listlessly towards the door. Qui-Gon sighed silently, following Anakin out of the door. They both put their hoods up and took the nearest turbolift down to the Healing Halls.

They reached the designated hallway to see Master Windu and Healer Eerin engaged into a very quiet, but also very heated discussion. The two Jedi looked up as Anakin and Qui-Gon approached, both of them seeming rather surprised when they lowered their hoods to reveal their faces.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve already been convinced, Master Windu,” Bant said, causing Mace to break out of his frozen state.

“Now, hold on a second—” he said to the Healer before he turned towards Anakin and Qui-Gon. “What the f- I mean, what are you two doing here?”

Anakin’s formerly disinterested façade got a serious crack and Qui-Gon stepped in before the two of them could escalate into a fight.

“You called us both here, remember?” he said. At Mace’ nonplussed face he showed him Anakin’s comm unit with the text message. Slowly Mace’ left eyebrow rose higher and higher the longer he stared at the message, and then suddenly he grabbed at his utility belt, patting the pouch that usually contained a Jedi’s comm unit.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed, all the while Bant seemed to be doing her best to stifle her laughter behind one hand.

“Come now, Master Windu,” Bant said. “There is such a thing as being overly paranoid.”

“Forgive me for wanting to be careful,” Mace said with a glare. The Healer didn’t seem impressed. “And it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you,” he murmured quieter.

“What exactly is this all about?” Qui-Gon cut in.

Bant looked at Mace, who finally sighed. “Alright, alright. Come follow me.” He turned around to walk down the hallway. Anakin and Qui-Gon exchanged a glance, but went after him with Bant on their heels.

Mace led them through several doors, each of them coming with a higher security level. Finally he stopped before the last, rather nondescript looking one.

“So, I know this might be… difficult, but I need both of you to keep a calm head and not do anything hasty,” Mace said. He turned towards the door and pressed his hand to the bioscanner, waiting until the small red light above it turned green. The door clicked open and Mace motioned for them to enter.

Qui-Gon followed behind Anakin, noticing that both Mace and Bant remained where they were. His momentary lack of attention caused him to nearly run into Anakin when the boy came to an abrupt halt, his eyes fixed on the single, large bed in the room. Looking past the padawan Qui-Gon’s eyes widened as he saw his own former padawan sitting up in the bed, looking a bit pale, but with a big smile on his face.

“Master!” Anakin cried out, dashing forward.

“Hello pada—oof,” Obi-Wan got out before he was downright tackled into a hug by Anakin. Qui-Gon followed a bit slower, taking the opposite site of the bed as the other had Anakin thrown over it. Obi-Wan had put his arms around the padawan’s shaking form, rubbing soothing circles against his back. He looked up as Qui-Gon sat down on the bed, then grabbed Qui-Gon’s arm and pulled him close until he was pressed against both Obi-Wan and Anakin’s warm bodies. He reached out and encircled them both in his arms, putting his head atop of Obi-Wan’s.

He deeply breathed in and out, acutely aware of Obi-Wan’s living body in his arms. He had questions upon questions, but right now he cared about none of them, only about the fact that by some Force-forsaken miracle Obi-Wan was alive. If it were up to him he’d never let go of his former padawan again, just so he would never have to live through a repeat of his death again.

They stayed like this for quite some time, both Anakin and him clinging onto Obi-Wan in a manner he probably should have found embarrassing, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

After what had to have been several minutes he heard Bant clearing her throat behind them.

“I need you to stop smothering my patient for a moment because I have to take his blood levels,” she said.

Reluctantly Qui-Gon let go, noticing the same kind of hesitancy in Anakin’s movement.

“How come you are still alive?” Anakin finally asked when Bant took Obi-Wan’s arm. “I thought—we thought, that you were dead.” Qui-Gon could tell that he was trying very hard not to sound accusing, but he couldn’t quite keep the kicked puppy look away from his face.

Obi-Wan seemed to wince at that, but Bant interrupted: “Actually, that’s not Obi-Wan’s fault.”

She retracted the medical tricorder from where she had inserted its needle into Obi-Wan’s arm.

“We did really think that Obi-Wan was dead when you stormed into the room back on Correllia. Hells, in all medical and Force terms he really seemed to be. So we had him transferred into the morgue on Correllia and entered him as officially dead into the archives. We all were surprised when roughly 24 hours after he was poisoned he suddenly woke up all fit and healthy. So, we didn’t intend to fake his death, but what with how circumstances played out it seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up.”

“So you let us believe for several days that he was dead?” Qui-Gon asked, barely keeping his temper in check.

Bant grimaced. “Not quite? As I said, it was a complete surprise to all of us when Obi-Wan woke up. It was sheer coincidence that I was the one who was there at the moment, or otherwise we’d have some random Correllian Healer in on our top-secret affairs. Anyway, it took us a few days until we really were sure that it was Obi-Wan who was inhabiting his own body and not some kind of Sith replacement. It was a bit touch and go for a while there. What with the assassin getting into the Correlian Temple without any of us noticing, we didn’t want to take any more risks, so until now it’s been all kept under wraps. I’ve been arguing with Mace but well… you saw that bit.”

“I thought I might shorten the process a bit by appropriating Mace’s comm unit,” Obi-Wan said, a smirk on his face.

“So the whole secrecy is just so that the Sith won’t start another attempt on murdering him,” Bant said.

“How is it then that Obi-Wan survived?” Qui-Gon asked.

“To be honest, we really aren’t sure,” Bant said. “It’s one of the reasons why we waited so long to let you in on the secret. By all means, the poison should have killed him but somehow it didn’t, or at least not immediately. We don’t know if the poison was simply not effective enough or if Yoda’s and my efforts did indeed have some use but only kicked in belatedly.”

“Everyone seems to be sure that whatever I was poisoned with was of Sith origin,” Obi-Wan said. “And since no one has really bothered with learning about the ways of the Sith in the last few centuries, information about their poisons seems a bit scarce.”

“Well, I’m just really glad that you’re back with us, master,” Anakin said, his eyes tellingly reddened.

“As am I, dear padawan,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

“We’ve done a lot of tests,” Bant said, “but so far it seems that whatever it was the assassin poisoned Obi-Wan with has been completely purged from his system, may it be from the Force Healing or from Obi-Wan’s own Life Force. So all that remains at the moment is some observation and waiting for him to regain his physical and mental strength, both of which are still rather non-existent from the whole… previous ordeal.”

“But so far the Healer’s prognosis is that I will make a full recovery as long as I take it easy,” Obi-Wan said with obvious amusement in his voice.

“As long as there aren’t any other assassination attempts, that is,” said Bant as Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Which is why Obi-Wan’s status of being still alive is being kept on the highest level of security. Aside from us four, only two other Healers, Master Tholme and a few of his most trusted Shadows, as well as Master Windu and Master Yoda know that Obi-Wan is still alive. We cannot risk the Sith trying another assassination while Obi-Wan’s still in this delicate condition.” Obi­-Wan glared at the Healer, which Bant ignored with obviously practiced skill. “So until things change, we ask you both to not lose a word about this to anyone else. Master Windu and Master Yoda are still discussing about how to play out this scenario. With how things are looking at the moment Obi-Wan will be transferred into one of the safe houses the Shadows use, until he’s recovered.”

“And then what?” Anakin asked with a frown.

Bant hesitated for a moment. “From how the planning seems to be going, the consensus is to keep Obi-Wan’s current status of being alive secret so that we can use it to find out the identity of the Sith Master.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, not really feeling happy about seeing Obi-Wan near any potential Sith anywhere in the near future. “And how exactly is that supposed to work?”

“I think I can identify the Sith Master,” Obi-Wan said, his voice quiet but determined.

“How?” Anakin asked, obviously taken aback.

“I—when Dooku used the device to control my mind, I got a brief glimpse into his mind in return,” Obi-Wan said. “More specifically, into a memory where he was talking to the Sith master. I didn’t see his face, but I do remember the way he looked in the Force. And I am convinced that they are indeed somewhere in the Senate. So all that remains is me positioning myself somewhere on the inside where I can be on the lookout for any shifts in the Force.”

“So you want to go right back into the Sith hell hole,” Qui-Gon said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“There’s not really much of a choice, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Believe me, I don’t exactly… feel up for it at the moment either, what with everything that happened. But I can’t just sit back and do nothing all the while knowing that somewhere out in the political landscape is a Sith who is trying their best to push us all into a war that would wipe out billions of lives.”

“Still, you can hardly go on a Sith hunt with the way you currently are!” Qui-Gon argued.

Obi-Wan snorted. “You don’t have to worry about, my dear master. Both me and the various healers,” he shot a glance towards a smug Bant, “agree that I will need a time period of convalescence before I can engage in that kind of intense mission.”

“What he means is a lot of rest, both physical and mental, and some quality time with one of our most discreet Soul Healers,” Bant said.

Anakin and Qui-Gon exchanged a glance. “And then what?” asked Qui-Gon.

“We’ve been thinking about approaching a few politicians we consider trustworthy,” Obi-Wan said. “Senator Amidala, Organa, and Duchess Kryze, to get the names on the table. If I can take an undercover position as one of their guards I would be in the ideal position to monitor all changes in the Force that happen around the Senate and recognize the Sith’s Force signature should they slip up.”

“So you’ll be forming an undercover identity, all the while pretending that you are dead?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Yes, so far that seems to be our best option,” Obi-Wan said. “Which is why I need you to take my place as Anakin’s Master.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened at Obi-Wan’s words; next to him, Anakin’s mouth fell open.

“It’s the best option,” Obi-Wan continued, ignoring their shock. “Anakin is close to his trials, yes, but he still needs guidance to get to the point. And you becoming his master will make it clear to everyone else that I am really dead.”

“We would like you to stay with Obi-Wan during all the time you don’t act as Anakin’s master to train him though,” Bant said. “With you having currently returned from the dead just to lose your former padawan, nobody is going to find it weird that you would isolate yourself, even from your responsibilities as Anakin’s substitute Master. While Obi-Wan is going to be protected by a few select Shadows, we’d like there to be someone who would accompany him as something more than a stranger doing their job.”

That certainly was a surprising revelation to Qui-Gon, even if he could understand where Bant was coming from. Getting support and healing from a Soul Healer was one thing, but having a support network to fall back onto was just as important. Usually that would mean the whole community of the whole Order, but with Obi-Wan officially dead that was not going to be an option.

“And what about me?” asked Anakin.

“Anakin, I’m sorry,” said Bant. “But if the Sith has eyes in the Jedi Order, which we heavily suspect at this point, they’re going to look at you very closely to ensure that your master didn’t make a spontaneous, miraculous recovery. We’ll try to give you some visitation hours, but with the current situation it will be better if you keep somewhat of a distance and play the part of the grieving apprentice in front of everyone else.”

“Fine,” Anakin sighed, obviously unhappy but knowing that that solution would be the best they could get. Obi-Wan reached out towards him, gripping his hand and squeezing it in quiet reassurance.

“This mission won’t go forever,” he said quietly. “And you can always reach me over our bond. Until then you might as well enjoy the opportunity of training with someone else, hm?”

Anakin looked at Qui-Gon, and in that moment he knew they both remembered the hateful words Obi-Wan had said when he had still been under Dooku’s control. Not that Obi-Wan would ever recall any of those and see the irony in his more recent statement.

“Okay,” Anakin said quietly, mustering a small smile for his master.

“We’ll release Obi-Wan in two days,” Bant said. “Qui-Gon, we’ll give you the address to the quarters you two will be occupying. We’ve assigned Knight Vos to be your handler for the mission, so expect to see him nearby when he’s checking up on the two of you. He’ll also be your go-to if you encounter any problems with the situation.” She looked at where both Anakin and Qui-Gon were still crowding in on Obi-Wan. “I’ll just leave you three to it then, I suppose?” she said with a grin before walking out of the door.

The door shut with an audible click, leaving the three of them behind all on their own.

“Do you really want to go up against the Sith again, Master?” Anakin asked. “You’ve just gotten away from the last one.”

“I won’t shy from my duty, dear padawan,” Obi-Wan said. “But as Bant said, I won’t be jumping right back into the fray, so there’s nothing to worry about just yet.”

“I guess,” Anakin grumbled, trying and failing not to pout.

“I promise I’ll be careful, alright?” Obi-Wan said, using one arm to wind around Anakin’s waist and press him close, ruffling through his hair in an affectionate gesture.

Qui-Gon looked at the pair, wondering if Anakin had caught onto Obi-Wan’s skilled deflection on the Sith subject. He was more than aware that the mental wounds that had been afflicted on his former padawan during the past tendays would take much longer to heal than his body and Force sense.

Stitching them closed would require a great deal more strength than everything else, but Qui-Gon took comfort in knowing that in this endeavor, Obi-Wan would not be alone. The past month had shown him just how loved his former padawan was, how many people inside and outside of the Order were willing to freely offer their help regardless of the cost and effort it would require.

Looking down he noticed that the Master/Padawan pair was already dozing off, Obi-Wan from the physical and Anakin from the emotional exhaustion catching up on them. Someone had lowered the lights in the room, and it was pleasantly warm, even more so with the two bodies next to him. Maybe he should leave the room and let them both rest, but he didn’t want to disturb them by moving. And surely a short nap here wouldn’t hurt.

His eyes closed, and he shifted just a bit to curl his body against Obi-Wan’s so that his feet wouldn’t hang over the edge of the bed. Within a few moments he was asleep, not noticing the arm that snaked around his shoulders and held him close, or Obi-Wan’s soft smile as he too finally let himself drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it, part 1 is done! (I'm a bit sad to see it go)  
> Part 2 is still in the works, and I'm still working out plot details, so it will be a while before you can expect the sequel, but I hope it won't be too long.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented, you gave me the motivation I needed to work through the difficult spots I sometimes had with the story, and you reminded me of the joy of sharing!
> 
> A special thank you goes to InNovaFertAnimus, who didn't read this story, but without whom it probably would never have been written. If you like The Man From U.N.C.L.E. then go read her stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr as deviantaccumulation, if you want to. Please leave a kudo if you liked it and some feedback to feed your local authors with happiness and renewed motivation! 
> 
> Also, if you see something you think could be changed for the better, don't hesitate to say so. All sorts of constructive criticisms are welcomed with open arms!


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